Gli Amanti Immortali
by angelically-devilish
Summary: Translation: The Immortal Lovers. Remus & Hermione discover that twenty years is not so great a divide when it comes to love.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: _**_I know, I know...I shouldn't be starting another WIP while I have 2 outstanding, one of which I haven't touched in a year & a half, but I realized that both of those are heavily SBHG & I'm on an RLHG kick at the moment - plus I've had this in the works for YEARS._

_Thanks for the beta, Amy! I miss you already!_

* * *

><p><strong>Gli Amanti Immortali<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One - Time<strong>

Hermione Granger found herself racing down the corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and for the first time in the six years she had attended the lauded educational institution, she hadn't a clue nor a care which direction she was going. Her feet pounded against the stones, hot tears stinging her eyes as she sped down the countless staircases and rounded corners, continuously fearful that she would meet another soul but knowing that on that night - that horrific, endless night - no one would be there to see her.

When she felt like her lungs would explode and her legs would give way from exhaustion she stopped, wiping her eyes and taking deep breaths as she collapsed against the wall. She wanted nothing more than to sob; to let out the strangled cry of unfathomable pain that was tearing her heart apart. But all she managed was a quiet whimper. In the vast expanse of the cavernous castle, that whimper echoed and bounced off the walls, managing to convey all that she felt and more.

"Hermione?"

She froze, slapping her hand over her mouth as a myriad of unfamiliar, conflicting emotions wracked her body. The calm, concerned voice of the one person she could not look at filled her with a new wave of heart-wrenching sadness. Unable to face him, she bolted into the closest room she could find, shutting the door as quietly as she could before falling against it, eyes awash with new tears.

It was not like her, running and hiding like a coward or a common criminal. She had always been the steady, stoic one - terse, even, if the situation called for it. But she knew, as blindingly clear as if it had been one of those dreadfully accurate prophecies, that if she had stayed one minute longer; if she hadn't escaped to the gloomy halls and spidery byways of the castle; then she would have most certainly said and done something from which there would be no return.

A pop and crackle from a lit fire made her jump, opening her eyes to see whose solitude she had interrupted. The room was blissfully empty, though the merrily-lit fireside told her that it hadn't been empty for long. A quick sweep told her she was in Professor Slughorn's rooms, and she found almost amusing that the one place she had always dreaded coming to throughout the year would be her sanctuary toward the end. Pushing away from the door, she now almost relished the cozy comfort of the overstuffed cushions and the pompous shrine of former Slug Club members. Even the swirling sand of Slughorn's beloved hourglass held comfort, and she wiped her eyes as she walked over to examine it more closely.

It was a curious thing: time. The steady, ticking constancy of it. There were times when she felt like she would never have enough of it. Then there were days like that day when she could almost feel it stretched before her, empty and lonely and seemingly stolen from those who deserved it more than she.

The latch on the door clicked and she held her breath. Her time had run out.

"Hermione?"

She didn't turn to the voice in the doorway and as the door shut quietly she held on to the wild hope that she hadn't been discovered. But then she heard his footsteps drawing closer and she prepared herself for the inevitable.

"What on earth are you doing in here?"

She closed her eyes. That voice. _His_ voice. Deep and calm and intelligent with a hint of a rasp that sent shivers down her spine. It turned her brain and body into jelly. It had always done so. But only recently had she realized what it meant. A realization that had been slowly killing her for almost two years.

"I'm sorry, Remus," she whispered, hoping her own voice didn't betray the tears that still fell freely. "I just...I ran and ended up here."

"You gave us quite a turn. Usually you're so..."

"I know," she said, her fingers caressing the glass of the silly little hourglass and finding an oddly comforting warmth to it. "Yes, I know I'm usually not one to just skip off. I'm sorry."

"Well, can't say I blame you. It's been an...emotional evening for all of us."

She turned to look at him, taking in his haggard appearance and worn, exhausted face. But his eyes - those warm, fathomless grey eyes that sparkled amber at moments of anger and excitement - his eyes never stopped being one of the loveliest things she had ever seen. Eyes that didn't show the premature aging of the rest of his body. Eyes that had a haunted quality about them but still carried the light and hope of a man who, in spite of everything, still yearned to find some good in the world.

Eyes that now gazed at her.

"I...er...I suppose there's a silver lining in all of this," she said, quickly drying her eyes as she tried to put on a brave front. "You and Tonks...congratulations."

His eyes darkened.

"There's nothing to congratulate," he said coolly. "And I'd thank you not to make assumptions."

In spite of feeling like a scolded school girl, Hermione couldn't help but feel her heart leap at the that hope his words were true.

"I try not to make assumptions on this particular subject, Remus," she replied, rather boldly. "After all, for all your arguments, you didn't deny that you feel..."

"Of course I didn't deny it! I've _slept_ with her so I _can__'__t_ very well deny anything!" he snapped. Then he sighed, sitting on the back of one of the sofas. "I'm sorry, Hermione. That was wildly inappropriate of me."

"No, you're right. I shouldn't have assumed..."

"It's okay. You're a smart girl...woman, I should say. I shouldn't have snapped." He sighed again. "It's just...it's quite complicated now that she's said something in _front_of people."

"I suppose seeing Fleur and Bill sparked something."

"She hasn't said anything new from the countless times we've argued about it. The problem is, now that she's expressed it in public, she's hoping I'll give some type of answer."

"Have you?" Hermione whispered.

"No."

Hermione said nothing. She felt for Tonks. Loving a man who wasn't willing or able to love her back was a fate Hermione understood all too well. It was a bitter irony that the feeling of camaraderie could never be shared openly, considering they were both in love with the same man. The difference being, of course, that Tonks had expressed her feelings quite plainly, while Hermione had suffered in silence.

Remus suddenly chuckled.

"God, what you must think of me," he said.

Hermione frowned.

"Why should it matter what I think of you?"

He gave a small smile.

"It's always mattered. You kept my secret for almost a year. You've always been exceptionally kind, even when I haven't really given you a reason. You're incredibly bright, which makes it a delight talking to you. I respect you."

"I respect you too, Remus. It can't be easy, living in a world where no one understands just what you go through. I just...I just want you to be happy."

"But _why_?" he pressed. "Why would you still wish that for me when you _know_what I've done, _seen_what I am? Jesus, Hermione, I had sex with Tonks and led her on and you still look at me as if...as if I'm still a human being and not this monster..."

"If anything, Remus, I think you're _more_ human for...for sleeping with Tonks," she said softly, the last words bitter pills as she said them. "We all crave human contact. It's a basic instinct."

There was a moment of silence as he looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. She held her breath. He was so close, so vulnerable, so tortured. She just wanted to make him smile again, to repair whatever had taken that smile away. And if that meant pushing him back into another woman's arms...well...she would always know he was happy about it. And that was all that mattered.

Wasn't it?

"When did you get so wise?" he asked finally.

She gave a short laugh.

"Oh, not so wise. I just...I know you. Not well, or anything, but I can see your pain." She chuckled again. "You have a terrible poker face."

He smiled.

"Sirius and James used to say the same thing. Usually _after_ they had won a few sickles off me playing a hand or two." He inhaled deeply, running his hand over his face. "They would know what to do in this situation, wouldn't they?"

"I'm sure Sirius would probably tell you to stop sulking and go be with the woman who loves you," Hermione half-joked, wishing he knew he could choose between the one upstairs and the one in front of him.

He looked up at her.

"And if I don't love her back? What then?"

Hermione swallowed. His eyes were pleading with her to give him the answers. But for the first time, she didn't have any to give.

"I don't know, Remus," she replied softly. "You have to decide how you feel."

Their eyes met, locked and searching; she for anything that would quash her hopeless dreams of a future with him and he for a way to decide his future himself.

"Why do I get the feeling that no matter what I decide, you'll still be here for me?" he asked finally.

"Be...because we're friends," she stuttered. "Aren't we?"

"It's more than that. We don't know each other very well but...you can read me. And what you see seems to be a better man than I am. Why?"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. She had the overwhelming desire to flee again, but she knew he would just follow. She gripped the desk behind her to steady her resolve and in doing so, bumped the hourglass. It tipped precariously and would have fallen had Remus and his lightening-quick reflexes not darted over to catch it.

Unfortunately, that also placed him right next to her.

"Hermione," he whispered softly as she looked away, determined not to ruin whatever their relationship was by opening her mouth and saying what her heart was screaming for her to say.

"Hermione," he said a little more forcefully, turning her head to face him. "Why do I get the feeling you're hiding something from me?"

She looked into his eyes and knew all at once what she was about to say, and what it would mean.

"You're not going to like my answer, Remus, so please don't ask," she begged in one last, futile attempt to keep the status quo, however painful it may be.

"Tell me," he said.

She closed her eyes.

"I see the man I want you to be because...because I want you to love yourself the way I love you," she breathed.

Silence.

She didn't speak. She didn't even dare to breathe. She waited, and waited, and waited. And when the silence became too much, she opened her eyes again. He was staring at her and for the first time in a very long time, his eyes were completely unreadable.

"You...love me?" he finally asked.

"I told you not to ask me," she said, hurrying to fill the space between them as she felt tears coming to her eyes again, preparing herself for the inevitable rejection. "You couldn't bear hearing it from Tonks so I can only imagine..."

"You're different," he interrupted. "For one thing, we haven't slept together and for another, I know you well enough to know that you're not frivolous with your emotions."

"I'd hardly consider Tonks frivolous with her emotions..."

"Why do you do that?" he asked suddenly. "You're pushing me to her. How can you do that when you...when you feel the way you do?"

She frowned, realizing that he had not, in fact, summarily rejected her the way she thought he would.

"I'm being realistic, Remus," she said cautiously, not daring to hope that all of her silent suffering could possibly have been returned in equal silent suffering. "Why aren't you arguing with me the way you did with her?"

"Because you're not her."

Hermione blinked.

"What?"

"Honestly, Hermione...I don't know how to feel about all this. You're young enough to be my daughter and yet you're so wise and mature...this isn't easy for me to handle."

"Really? Because it was a real picnic for me to say it," she replied sarcastically. "Look, just say what you need to say in this situation. You're too old, you're a werewolf, you don't have money...just say it."

He looked into her eyes.

"Do you want me to say that?"

She felt her breath hitch in her throat and as she blinked, she could have sworn that he was closer than he had been before she had said anything.

"I...no."

"I'm not saying there aren't obstacles but...I don't know."

"If you don't know, just go to Tonks and be with her so I can move past this."

He looked at her and shook his head.

"I don't want Tonks. And I know I shouldn't want you. But..."

Hermione's heart stopped.

"'But?'" she repeated.

He let out a breath, looking down at the hourglass still clutched in his hands.

"Merlin, what I wouldn't give to have the twenty years between us disappear," he said softly.

She looked into the swirling sand, tears starting to fall yet again.

"Me too."

They looked at each other, both unaware that the sand inside the hourglass was starting to swirl faster, spinning within the glass. Sparks of gold jumped and stirred and before either of them could react, the glass shattered, releasing a blinding golden light.

Then all went dark.

* * *

><p><em>Hope You Liked It!<em>

_Remember: Reviews Help Updates! ;-)_

script type="text/javascript"

var _gaq = _gaq || [];  
>_ (['_setAccount', 'UA-35042036-1']);<br>_ (['_setDomainName', ' ']);  
>_ (['_trackPageview']);<p>

(function() {  
>var ga = ('script'); = 'textjavascript'; = true;  
>= ('https:' == .protocol ? ' ssl' : ' www') + '. ';<br>var s = ('script')[0]; .insertBefore(ga, s);  
>})();<p>

/script


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N:_**_ Oh snap! Is that an update in less than a week? WHAT?_

_Yeah, well, I finally updated Playing the Players as well, so next on the docket is Interviewing Casanova._

_This is unbeta'd, so be nice._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two – Falling Back<strong>

"She's waking up!"

"Quiet!"

"Why? We _want_ her to wake up, don't we?"

"I think what she means, Sirius, is that this is an infirmary and not everyone needs to hear the sound of your voice."

"In other words, Pads, shut it."

"Thank you for that, James, but Remus's tact is a little more constructive at the moment."

Hermione could feel consciousness slowly settle in as she became aware of the cacophony of voices around her. Her head immediately started to throb and she gave a small groan as she realized just how much her body ached. She felt as if she had been thrown against a brick wall and as she went to stretch out her legs, she slowly became conscious of the cool sheets under which she lay and the soft pillow under her head.

She was in a bed, and had she heard the word 'infirmary'?

"Do you think she's waking up?"

"Honestly, I'm just glad she's moving."

"Madame Pomfrey said she was alive when you brought her in, Lils. You worry too much."

"You didn't see her when we brought her in, James."

"Will you two shut up? She's _waking up_!"

"Yes, Sirius, we can see that."

Though she still felt the edge of grogginess, Hermione was able to process the voices and words she was hearing, though they didn't clear up any of the confusion she was feeling. She knew the names they were addressing each other with almost as well as she knew her own. But it simply wasn't possible for the people who were talking to be the very same people she knew those names belonged to. There had to be a reasonable explanation but in her state she could only come up with completely _unreasonable_ explanations. And even if those were remotely possible, they were not ones she was willing to explore while recovering from what was obviously a big blow to the head.

'_Deep breaths, Hermione,_' she thought to herself, concentrating on her breathing in an effort to block out the madness her mind was conjuring. '_Just breathe. This is all a dream. Just think back to the last thing you remember._'

Keeping her eyes closed and taking deep, calming breaths, Hermione willed her mind to focus on something before the blackness she had just awoken from. What she remembered made her heart hurt. They had been battling Death Eaters in the Astronomy tower. Dumbledore was dead. Bill was injured in the Hogwarts Infirmary. She had run to Slughorn's rooms, searching for solitude to console her broken heart. Remus had followed her. They had talked and then the hourglass exploded.

The hourglass.

All of a sudden, the two impossible explanations she hadn't wanted to think about were the only two that were practical, given the extremely odd and admittedly terrifying circumstances.

She was suddenly short of breath. She coughed violently, feeling her body convulse painfully as shock and understanding gripped her. A warm hand took hers, followed by a cold compress on her brow. It immediately made her feel better and she felt herself able to breathe normally again.

Normally enough to dare to speak.

"Am…am I dead?" she heard herself say, though it hurt her throat and the question sounded more like a hoarse croak than her voice.

"Did she just say something?"

"I think she just asked if she was dead."

"Morbid little thing, isn't she?"

"Oh Sirius, _do_ shut up."

Hermione let out the breath she had been holding, a little of her anxiety waning at the sound of the voices around her. She wasn't dead. At least, she was almost positive she wasn't dead. She liked to think that she would be aware of the fact that she was dead, should the occasion arise. Her type-A, controlling personality also liked to think that, if she ever were to wake up dead, the people around her would be able to guide her into it with a little more tact and decorum.

Shoving the macabre from her mind for the moment, she was left with the only alternative that made sense. And while it was infinitely gratifying to know that she was not, in fact, deceased, the other explanation did not prove any less troubling.

Could it have been possible that she had somehow managed to go _back_ in _time_?

It was an impossibility, of course. Even if a time turner was able to go back to the time period she assumed she was in, all of them had been destroyed. And Horace Slughorn, collector of all things powerful and prolific, simply wouldn't have kept a time turner as a trophy on his desk is he had known its true value.

Knowing that she would have to face whatever reality she had fallen into, Hermione took a deep breath and tried to open her eyes. The fading light of dusk was kinder to her corneas than she had expected, and she felt the hand that had been holding hers tighten slightly as she blinked herself into a fully observational state.

"Hello," a soft, caring voice said from her right. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

Though she had expected it, there was no amount of reasoning that prepared Hermione for the sight she received when she looked at her caretaker. Harry's eyes looked at her from a lovely female face, framed by hair the colour of burnt auburn. Lily Potter – well, technically still Lily Evans – smiled sweetly at her, flanked by three boys, two of whom Hermione knew, or had known, as men and one she only recognized from photographs.

James Potter beamed at her from behind a pair of spectacles and under a head of what seemed to be terminally unmanageable black hair. Sirius Black stood next to him, younger and even more handsome than the shell of a man she once knew, though his pose of aristocratic arrogance was so familiar that it tugged at her heart.

And Remus Lupin – younger, perhaps, and a less scarred version of the man she loved – stood a little back from the group but clearly no less a part of it. She would recognize his kind, grey eyes anywhere.

"How are you feeling?" James asked softly.

"Um…a little parched," Hermione replied hoarsely. "And incredibly sore."

"Here. Some water," Lily said, picking up a glass from the side table and conjuring a straw. Hermione accepted it gratefully, feeling the cool liquid start to soothe her throat.

"Thank you," she said when Lily put the glass back.

"You're welcome," the other woman replied, her smile warm. "Do you know where you are?"

"I heard someone mention an infirmary?" Hermione said, looking around and realizing for the first time that it was actually the Hogwarts Infirmary.

Lily nodded.

"You're in Hogwarts. Do you…do you know Hogwarts?"

"And just a hint, but it's not a dermatological condition plaguing the porcine population," James added.

Hermione chuckled in spite of herself, coughing a little.

"I'm familiar with Hogwarts," she said. "How did I end up here? In the Infirmary, I mean."

"We brought you here," Remus said, his gaze glued to her.

"Yeah. Lils here found you in old Sluggie's rooms," Sirius added with a grin.

Lily sighed.

"Sirius, please show some respect for Professor Slughorn," she said, a tone of mild exasperation reminding Hermione of how _she_ used to address Sirius.

Obviously, the man's ability to exasperate hadn't changed much since his Hogwarts days.

"_So_ sorry, Lils. I forgot I was addressing the _president_ of the Slug Club," Sirius continued to tease.

Lily blushed.

"I am _not_ the…oh! Grow up, Sirius!"

"I think that's probably easier said than done," Hermione said before she could stop herself. Her eyes widened and she slapped a hand across her mouth but both James and Remus were grinning.

"Conscious for two minutes and already she's got your number, Pads," James said to his sulking friend before turning back to Hermione. "We're going to get along splendidly, I think."

Hermione found it hard not to smile. While the situation was incredibly surreal, and more than a little complicated, there was something comforting about falling out of time and into the proverbial arms of a young Lily Evans-Potter and the Marauders. Well, three of the Marauders, at least, but that was a piece of history she wasn't quite ready to confront.

Especially since she technically wasn't supposed to know who they were.

"I…er…would very much like to know the names of my…attentive rescuers," she finally said, giving as friendly as smile as she could manage.

"Oh! Oh yes, of course. I'm Lily Evans," Lily said. "And these are James Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin."

"Though we are collectively known as the Marauders, m'lady," Sirius added grandly, sweeping into a low bow.

"Purveyors of mischief and generally known as trouble," Lily quipped dryly.

"Of that I have no doubt," Hermione said softly, smiling to herself as she recalled the tales Remus and Sirius would recount ad nauseum to the delight of the Weasley twins and to the chagrin of their mother.

"And may we ask the name of the delightful lady in whose company we find ourselves?" James asked.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but paused. On the one hand, her mere existence in whatever time period she had fallen into would have results on her future. Adding a solid, defined name to that presence might very well have consequences she couldn't yet fathom.

On the other hand, the idea of going through that existence under a false identity, for whatever period of time she may be stuck there, seemed utterly exhausting. Fate had brought her, Hermione Granger, back in time for a purpose. So it stood to reason that she should maintain that identity in order to discover just what that purpose was.

"Hermione," she said finally. "My name is Hermione Granger."

"Well, Hermione Granger," Remus said with a soft smile. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading.<em>

_Hope you liked it._


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N: _**_I'm doing pretty well with updates lately, but life is going to get very busy very quickly so please be patient with me._

_This is unbeta'd (shouldn't come as a surprise anymore) so please be gentle._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three: Springing Forward<strong>

Remus awoke with a start, breathing heavily as if emerging from a nightmare. His head was pounding, as if a rather badly-tuned orchestra had taken up residence within his skull. He stifled a groan of pain, his muscles sore and his limbs protesting. He wondered if it had been the full moon and he hadn't realized it. But of course that was impossible. It hadn't been a full moon that night. If it had, he knew he would have been more useful in that fight in the Astronomy tower. He might have even gotten to Snape in time...

"Look! He's waking up!"

"Careful! You don't want to alarm him."

"_Alarm _him? Gin, he has literally come back from the dead!"

"I know that, Harry, but _James_ doesn't need to get as overexcited about it as you, does he?"

Remus's brow furrowed. Something wasn't right. He recognized Harry's voice, and Ginny's, but they were...different, somehow. A bit more mature. And who on earth was this James person they talked about.

"Oh Mum, I'm not going to get overexcited!"

"Yes, dear, I know. Now hush."

Fully awake, Remus immediately went from confused to completely terrified for his sanity. Apparently there was a boy named James. And had he just called Ginny '_Mum_'?

"Mu-um, I was the one that _found_ him! I'm _not_ going to get overexcited!"

"Alright, dear. But let's stay calm because your father might overexcite himself."

"Oh now really, Ginny. Was that necessary?"

Unable to tax his mind with anymore, Remus forced himself to open his eyes and look at the three people next to him. He visibly started at what he saw. Harry had aged almost twenty years, with a few wrinkles around his eyes and a somewhat receding hairline. Ginny, too, looked older and every bit like an overworked but deliriously satisfied mother.

There was a boy between them. He was about twelve or thirteen, and every inch their son.

What the _hell_ was going on?

"Hello, Remus," Ginny said with a gentle smile, running her hand down his arm.

"Remus," Harry simply said, green eyes sparkling with emotion.

Remus blinked at them.

"Um...what is going on? Is this a trick? Have Fred and George given you an aging potion? Who's this little boy? Where _am_ I?" he asked, the questions flying out of his mouth before he got a chance to filter them through.

Ginny smiled softly, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"I know this must be very confusing for you, Remus, but you need to rest."

"Rest? Why? What happened to me? Where am I..._when_ am I?" he pressed, the madness that had slowly been pressing on him - the one that suggested that he may not be exactly within the reality he thought he was - taking over his rational thought.

"Remus," Harry said steadily. "This is the Hogwarts Infirmary. James here found you in the Potion Master's rooms. You were unconscious, so he brought you here."

Remus looked at the young boy and couldn't help but smile when he saw James grinning from ear to ear. It was a look that epitomized Harry, Ginny, James and Lily so much that he felt something tug at his heart.

He took a deep breath, looking straight into Harry's eyes.

"Am I...?"

"You need to rest," Harry said.

"Sod the rest! Nothing makes sense!"

Harry and Ginny shared a look. Remus had to stop himself from thinking of how familiar that look was. Harry and Ginny couldn't share a look. They were children.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Ginny finally asked.

"We had just finished fighting in the Astronomy tower. Harry…er...that is to say, you...had just told us Dumbledore was...killed. Hermione ran off. I followed her down to Slughorn's rooms and we were talking and..."

He stopped short, closing his eyes as realization dawned. The hourglass. Slughorn's stupid little seemingly-trivial hourglass _must_ have _done_ something.

Hermione had been with him when it happened. He looked around instinctively, but he saw no one that resembled her.

"Remus?"

"Where's Hermione?" he asked, urgency in his tone. "She was with me when it happened, where is she?"

"She...she's probably at work. We haven't told anyone else yet," Harry replied, looking confused.

"At...at _work_?"

Ginny moved to sit on the edge of his bed, taking his hand in hers.

"Remus, if your last memory is the battle in the Astronomy tower, then you've...you've come forward twenty years."

He looked at her, momentarily disbelieving her words. Going through time was possible in small doses with a time turner, but _twenty years_?

"I was in the room with Hermione. The Hermione from _my_ time. Where is she?"

Harry shook his head.

"I don't know. She wasn't with you."

"What do you mean she wasn't with me? She was _right next to me_!"

"Remus..."

"This is ridiculous. I must be dreaming. I just got knocked out by the blast and now I'm dreaming and this will all go away if I just..."

"_Remus_!"

Remus jumped at the tone in Ginny's voice. She sounded like such an eerie combination of Lily Potter and Molly Weasley.

"I know you're confused and frightened, but you need to stay in bed. You've been unconscious for several hours and the last thing you should do is exert yourself."

Remus sighed. She was right, of course. _If_ he had moved through time and _if _he was stuck in this new reality, he needed to be as calm and rational as possible. Laying his head back on the pillow, he looked at the ceiling and took a deep breath.

"May I ask a few clarifying questions?" he asked.

"A few," Ginny replied, moving back to the chair by the bed.

"Well, obviously you two ended up married. Tell me...how the past twenty years have happened."

He knew they were exchanging another look because when he turned back to them, they both had the same, reserved expressions on their faces.

"We...er...we don't know what to tell you and what not to tell you, Remus. After all, when you find a way back..."

"Do you honestly think I'd tell anyone?" he asked, exasperated. "Do you think anyone would _believe_ me?"

"Well...still..."

"Just...tell me what happened with everyone in the Order," he pleaded. "You two ended up together, and you have a child..."

"Three," Harry interrupted. "We have three children. James is our eldest. He's a second-year. Albus is the middle one. He's a first year. And Lily. She's the youngest."

"Good names," Remus said with a small smile. "And Ron? Hermione?"

"They married," Ginny said. "Took a little longer than Harry and I, but they married. They have two children. Rose, who is also a first-year. And Hugo, who's Lily's age."

Remus swallowed hard, trying to understand why the idea of Hermione being married to Ron made him uncomfortable. He had never understood why everyone had wanted the two of them together. They had seemed completely incompatible.

"How about your other brothers, Ginny? Fred, and George? Bill, Charlie, and Percy?"

Harry and Ginny exchanged yet another look. Remus was starting to get annoyed by it.

"Remus, I think it's best that we continue this discussion later," Ginny finally said.

Remus let out a frustrated sigh.

"Look, if I _did_ move twenty years into the future, I'm going to end up finding out certain things, aren't I? Why bother to hide them?"

"We're not intentionally hiding them from you, Remus," Harry argued. "There's just...a lot that's happened. We need to make sure you're strong enough."

Remus closed his eyes, wondering when his head would stop spinning. It was exceptionally hard to just accept that he was in the future. It was even harder to do so without any real conclusive proof that he was there.

Aside from the very quiet boy who was watching everything with big, captivated eyes.

"I...er...noticed you didn't ask about Tonks," Ginny said quietly.

Remus frowned.

"Why would I ask about Tonks?"

Harry gave Ginny a 'Now you've done it' look, and Remus sat up, looking at the two.

"Why would I ask about Tonks," he repeated, fixing them both with a look so dark that they both recoiled a bit.

"You...er...that is, a few months after the battle...you married her," Harry said.

"I did _what_?"

"That night, when she confessed to you...I guess you decided that it was alright and you two...you married."

"Jesus fuck," Remus murmured, laying back down, wincing as his head gave a rather painful throb. "So, if I married her, why isn't she here, sitting vigil by my side?"

They were both quiet and he instinctively knew something terrible had happened in this reality.

"She died, didn't she?" he answered for them. When they didn't negate him, he inhaled deeply. "What happened? Did I kill her? In my...other form, I mean?"

"No, it wasn't like that..." Harry started.

"Oh God. Was it in childbirth? Did she give birth to a werewolf? I _told_ her that was a risk..."

"No, Remus, the childbirth was fine and your son isn't a..."

"_Ginny_!" Harry shouted as Remus stared.

"I have a son?" he whispered. "With Tonks?"

"So much for letting him rest, Gin," Harry murmured.

"I'm sorry," she snapped at him. "But he deserved to know."

"Yes, but not _now_..."

"Yes, now!" Remus shouted, trying to stop himself from jumping out of the infirmary bed. "I married Tonks and we had a son?"

"Yes. His name is Teddy."

"God. Oh God," Remus repeated, suddenly feeling fatigue wash over him. He lay back once more, taking it all in. This was the absolute last reality he ever thought he'd come to.

"We'll let you rest," Ginny said, patting his shoulder. "We'll come by later."

He looked up at her.

"One more thing," he asked.

"Yes?"

"Am I...am _I_ still alive? I mean..._this_ reality's version of me?"

He saw Ginny's eyes soften and fill with tears, and neither she nor Harry had to say anything for him to know. This was what they had meant when they had said he had come back from the dead.

Turning away from them, he listened as they walked slowly to the door and left him alone. He closed his eyes, taking refuge in the reality he knew. He wished it was all just a nightmare.

As he felt sleep start to envelope him, he found himself thinking about the only thing that made sense to him in that moment. He fell asleep to the vision of a pair of deep chocolate eyes framed by a halo of wild honey curls, and the woman they belonged to.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading<em>

_Hope you like it_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:** If you follow me on Twitter, you would have noticed some rather melancholy tweets from me regarding recent reviews of my story **Interviewing Casanova**._

_In response to these reviews (which are some of a continuous amount I seem to get nowadays), I'm officially saying that once I finish my works-in-progress, you probably won't be seeing much from me._

_As a writer, one needs to have a thick skin. I've tried, over the years, to develop that tough exterior by posting here. I've realized, however, that writing my not be the career I should head in, as I do not have the thick skin one would need to adjust to the negative feedback._

_I'd like to take this opportunity to thank each and every one of the readers who have been infinitely supportive over the years. There are a healthy number of you, which makes it all the harder for me to back away from writing. Perhaps one day, when life has given me a tougher exterior, I may come back to this wonderful fandom. In the meantime, I shall be finishing up my three works-in-progress in the next year or so before closing shop on angelically-devilish._

_**Amy, as ever, I love you dearly. I hope you can find a writing partner who deserves you.**_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four: Falling Back – Making Plans<strong>

Hermione couldn't help the agonizing mixture of heartbreak and joy she felt as she sat across the large mahogany desk, staring into the serene face of the man she had been mourning only days earlier. He was assessing her silently, unreadable blue eyes set behind his pair of half-moon spectacles and she felt her heart tug at the familiarity of it. It seemed horribly unfair that life should bring her here to exist in the past amidst the ghosts of her present without any hope of changing the march of time.

She was a smart young woman. 'The brightest witch of her age,' as both Sirius and Remus had said when she was only fourteen. She knew, however, that as ardently as she wished to, she wouldn't be able to change the horrors that had happened so soon after this happy little pocket of serenity in the Marauders' lives.

No matter what it would mean for both Harry and the man she loved.

"So, Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore's calming voice said, breaking through her thoughts to bring her back to his presence. "I must admit, your story is a rather...singularly unique occurrence in the long history of this illustrious school."

"I know it's not easy to believe. I scarcely believe it myself."

He smiled kindly.

"On the contrary, Miss Granger. It is the incredible uniqueness of it that works to your credit. The fact that it hasn't happened before makes it more believable that it could. True, it is far-fetched, but that doesn't make it impossible. In fact, just this morning I was thinking that a rather impossible thing might happen today. Though, I do admit that at the time I was rather hoping for a quill that never splattered ink on important documents."

He gave a sigh and shrugged.

"That thought, coupled with your as yet unimpeachable character reference from both the Head Boy and Head Girl; a Gryffindor prefect, and their troublemaking but stout-hearted friend, leads me to believe that you are who you say you are."

Hermione let out the breath of relief she hadn't realized she had been holding.

"You have no idea how much your confidence means to me, sir."

He leaned back in his chair.

"You've said that you've gone back in time just a little under 20 years. Yet you have such an easy report with Miss Evans, Mr. Potter, Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin. May I...and I understand if it's not my place to ask, but...may I ask if you know them? The adult versions of them, I mean."

Hermione opened her mouth to answer 'no', but she shut it again. If there was anyone who would know she was lying, it would be Albus Dumbledore. The consequences of revealing too much, however, would definitely impact the future and she was as yet unsure whether it would be in a way that would make things better than they were. Time was tricky. If there was anything her seventeen years had taught her, it was that.

"I...I'm unsure how to answer you, sir," she said honestly. "I won't lie and say that the future I come from couldn't...benefit...from changes in this time period but..."

He gave a small smile.

"I'm afraid I've misjudged and underestimated you, Miss Granger," he said.

She gave a sigh.

"I get that more often than I'd like."

"Don't misunderstand me," he said quickly. "I find you extremely bright and more than capable. I just...perhaps it is my ignorance of things to come but I expected you to be a little more innocent than you are."

She gave a wry smile.

"I'm afraid that's not an option where I come from."

He surveyed her for a moment.

"That's quite sad," he finally said. The he sighed. "But you are quite right. No matter what your present looks like, we cannot do more damage to the future than is already done by your admittedly charming presence. Let us move on, and speak no more of it."

She nodded.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, to the subject of where you should go and what you should do, I..."

"I apologize, sir, but I have some thoughts on that," Hermione interrupted anxiously. He simply nodded and motioned for her to speak.

"Well...the hourglass kept me at Hogwarts, so I think it wants me to stay here."

He smiled again.

"My thoughts precisely, Miss Granger."

"I...I should very much like to stay here and...and see what plans it may have for me."

"Again, we are in agreement."

"So...so I was thinking... perhaps I could stay and do a sort of...of independent study? Spend my time in the library doing research on time travel and..."

"Ah," Dumbledore said, leaning forward. "Here is where our opinions may differ, I believe."

"Oh," Hermione said, feeling something akin to dread creep up her spine.

"I have no doubt that your intelligence is above reproach, but we have very little material available on time travel in any section of the library," he continued. "Aside from that, I think it may be a little disruptive to have a student milling about the castle who is not participating in any classes."

"I see."

"You said you were almost at the end of your sixth year when you ran afoul of Professor Slughorn's hourglass. Might I suggest that you join our seventh years and continue your studies?"

"I...as much as I appreciate your confidence that I will be able to catch up, I don't think that will leave me with enough time to work on my own...endeavours."

He nodded.

"I did think of that," he said. "My suggestion is that you meet with me one evening a week, and together we work on this. That way, we may procure the hourglass under less...suspicious pretences," he added, looking down his long nose at her. She blushed with embarrassment under his gaze. She should have realized he would suspect that her first course of business would be to gain possession of Professor Slughorn's hourglass.

"That's very kind of you, sir," she managed to mumble.

"Not at all. I admit a bit of selfish curiosity in this whole situation. I would like to know the outcome." He took a deep breath. "Now, to the question of your house..."

"Oh, am I not to be a Gryffindor?" she interrupted before she could stop herself, blushing even brighter under his bemused smile.

"Well, I suppose I should have guessed that was the house you came from, though I was leaning toward Ravenclaw for a moment. But of course you must remain a Gryffindor. After all, I would hate to see you removed from your new friends."

Despite another wave of relief, Hermione couldn't help feeling slightly hesitant at the knowledge that remaining in Gryffindor tower would keep her in close contact with Lily and the Marauders. It was true that she had become quite fond of them in the days she had been quarantined to the Infirmary, but she also knew how dangerous it could be to remain close with them as she was trying to get back to her own time.

She did know, however, that if she ever got back, Harry would never forgive her if she returned without a more intimate knowledge of his parents. And there wasn't any harm learning more about them while she was there.

Then another thought occurred to her.

"I don't have the money to pay for..."

"Don't worry about that. We have quite a generous discretionary fund for underprivileged students. I will make sure you have everything you need by the time you leave the Infirmary."

Hermione nibbled at her lower lip as she debated giving voice to a rather small, slightly superficial detail she had been thinking about.

"Sir...since I come from twenty years in the future, there are certain cultural...and fashion trends I'm not familiar with."

Dumbledore chuckled lightly.

"Don't worry yourself on that score. I trust your knowledge of contemporary history will help you with the culture. As for the fashions, I'll admit my own ignorance to the trends of the day but I have full faith that you'll be happy with the selections made."

"Thank you, sir."

"No need to thank me, my dear. Now, I'll send word to you when I'm ready to have us start our research. In the meantime, rest and get adjusted to your classes and schedule. I've asked young Mr. Lupin to escort you back to the Infirmary, but before you leave, is there anything more you need to tell me about how you got here?"

He was assessing her again and Hermione swallowed hard. She had specifically left Remus's presence at the time of the hourglass's magic out of the conversation, as she wasn't sure whether it wouldn't do more harm than good. Aside from admitting that she did, in fact, know the man, she feared that it would raise questions that might hinder her friendship with him in this time period.

She knew the thought was wrong - that she shouldn't even consider approaching the young Remus Lupin with anything other than the detached familiarity she would treat the others with - but there was something about him, much like the adult version, that drew her to him like a helpless moth to a blameless flame.

"No, sir. Nothing you need concern yourself with."

He watched her for a moment longer, then nodded.

"Alright, Miss Granger. You'll find Mr. Lupin just outside. I'll be in touch."

"Thank you, Headmaster."

As she exited, she saw Remus sitting on a bench reading a book. She arched an eyebrow when she saw what it was.

"Do you like Ginsberg?" she asked him, and he jumped, looking up at her with wide eyes. He closed the book quickly, standing and blushing slightly.

"I...er...Sirius lent it to me. He's rather subversive. I like it, though I don't always...I don't always understand him," he replied, tucking the book in his bag.

"Nor I," she admitted with a small smile. "Perhaps you have to be American to understand it. But I find his images poignant."

"I...yes. Me too."

They took the spiral staircase down and exited past the gargoyle, heading back toward the Infirmary. The castle was quiet and as Hermione looked at her watch, she realized everyone was probably at supper.

"I'm sorry to keep you from your meal," she said. "You don't need to accompany me if you want to go see if there's anything left. I can manage."

"Oh. Well, James and Sirius were going to bring me something but... if you preferred I go..."

"No, I don't mean...I just meant if you'd _rather_..."

"I don't mind. I...I enjoy your company," he said, and even in the dimly lit hallways, Hermione thought she saw him blush again.

She tried to ignore the little flip her heart made at the sight of it.

"I...you've all been so kind. Thank you," she said.

"I'm sure you would do the same for us, were the roles reversed," he replied.

"Yes, I'd like to think I would."

They walked a bit more in silence before he spoke again.

"So...do you know what house you'll be joining?" he asked.

"Gryffindor," she replied. "So I suppose we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

"Oh. Yes. Yes, that'll be nice. I mean...I know Lily will be happy to hear it. She's very fond of you. That is to say...I suppose we all are. Fond of you."

"I'm glad. I'm fond of you all as well."

They continued the rest of the way in silence but as they came to the doors of the Infirmary, Remus stopped her.

"Hermione, I...I don't suppose...that is...the next Hogsmeade trip is coming and..."

"Moony! There you are! We've been looking for you!" a voice suddenly called out. Hermione saw Remus cringe as Sirius came loping around the corner.

"I told you Dumbledore asked for me," Remus said to his grinning friend.

"Oh yes! I was wondering why Prongs was stuffing food into his bag. Sorry, mate, I forgot. Hello, Brown Eyes. How's the invalid today?" the handsome pureblood asked, shooting her a charming smile as he used the rather uninspired nickname he had coined for her.

"Well enough that you can stop referring to me as 'the invalid', thank you," she replied.

He bowed low.

"My apologies, princess. How's Dumbledore? Got you sorted, then?"

Remus looked at him.

"How is it that you remember that _she_ had a meeting with the headmaster but you forgot that _I_ did?" he asked.

"I always make it my business to know where every pretty, available witch is at all times in this castle," Sirius replied with a wink.

"How exhausting for you. I'm amazed you have space in your head for anything else," Hermione mused.

"It's a debatable point that he actually does," Remus quipped dryly.

Sirius shot his friend a glare before pouting at the laughing Hermione.

"If I didn't know better, Brown Eyes, I would think you were trying to dissuade my flirtations," he said. "Fortunately, my ego is sufficiently healthy to take your callous blows."

"I don't think anyone here has any delusions about the health of your ego, Padfoot," Remus mumbled.

Hermione smiled gently.

"I had better go inside before Madame Pomfrey sends out a search party. Have a good night, boys," she said, leaving them in the hallway before either could protest.

Sitting on her bed and listening to the muted sound of the duo's footfalls down the castle floors, Hermione let out a deep sigh, wondering just what on earth she had gotten herself into.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading.<em>


	5. Chapter 5

****_**A/N:** Well, friends, it's about that time where 'REAL LIFE' comes around & stings me in the behind, making it difficult to find the time to write. All I can say is, thank Merlin for Blackberries, lol._

_Also - I realized it's been awhile since I updated everyone (who isn't on Twitter) to the goings-on in my life. I'm no longer working 3 jobs (YAY!) but I have a very demanding full-time job that keeps me away from the fandom almost as much as the 3 jobs did. SO...let's work under the assumption that I'm just as busy, shall we?_

_**Thank you, Amy, for the beta. *hugs***  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5: Springing Forward – Life's Journeys<strong>

Remus shifted uncomfortably as he looked at the younger man in front of him. The younger man merely blinked back, light brown eyes sparkling with a light that Remus recognized all too well. The man was every bit a credit to both his parents, and it was one of the most incredibly unnerving things Remus had ever experienced in his life.

"So," he said, clearing his throat nervously. "I...er...I don't expect you ever thought you'd be in this situation, eh?"

The man arched an eyebrow.

"You mean having a conversation with a past version of my dead father? No. No, not high on the list of life's expectations," Teddy replied dryly.

Remus chuckled in spite of himself.

"I see you've grown up with the great Potter wit," he said. "That's good."

"Yeah. Harry's been a great role model," Teddy said, his eyes flicking to the man in question, who sat quietly on the other side of the room.

"I suppose I was very smart to make him godfather," Remus replied, also glancing at Harry.

"Yeah, I guess."

There was another moment of awkward silence. Remus took a deep breath.

"So...you must have questions," he coaxed.

Teddy shrugged.

"One of the...benefits, I suppose...of growing up with dead parents is that you never really have the expectation of ever meeting them and therefore you don't really prepare for it. At least...you hope you don't meet them, if meeting them means joining them in the afterlife."

"Right. Well...sound logic," Remus replied.

They descended into another awkward silence.

"I...uh...Harry tells me you're working at the Ministry of Magic," Remus finally said.

"Yeah. Training to be an Auror, like Mum."

Remus nodded.

"She is...was...a very brave woman."

"Harry said that's one of the reasons why you married her."

Remus swallowed.

"I...yes. Yes, I suppose that would have been one of the reasons."

"He also said you two weren't married in the time you came from."

"No, no we weren't."

"But you married soon after."

"I...I suppose we did, yes."

"It's just...you don't seem particularly upset by the fact that she's dead."

Remus blinked.

"Well, I...I guess...if I'm dead too, then...then there's nothing to be done, is there?"

"But if you're in love with someone, and go through time and discover they're dead in the future, wouldn't you be distressed?"

Remus opened his mouth to answer, but paused. In _this_ reality, he had married Tonks. They had had a child together. Somewhere in his mind, he acknowledged that it could have been a possibility in his time. Tonks was an attractive, intelligent, _persistent_ woman and there wouldn't have been anything too terribly wrong with marrying her.

It was just that there had always been a doubt in his mind that she was _the_ one for him. It was a doubt that had not emerged when Hermione had confessed her love for him.

He wondered if the Remus from _this_ reality had known that Hermione Granger had loved him.

Realizing that Teddy was waiting for an answer, he quickly thought back to the question. A man in love should be distressed by the idea that the woman he loved had died - and died young - in the future, shouldn't he?

He really couldn't say.

"Yes, but...but going through time...it's already a lot to handle, Teddy. I guess...I guess I'm not quite used to it."

The younger man nodded.

"I suppose that makes sense," he said.

Once again, they descended into silence.

"Well...I guess I should go. Lots to do before work tomorrow," Teddy finally said, standing.

Remus looked up at him.

"Oh. Oh, yes, of course. Well...I hope we'll see each other again soon."

"Sure. And if you end up back in your own time, you'll see me eventually, won't you?"

All Remus could do was nod.

Once Teddy had left, Harry came over to sit with Remus.

"So?" he asked. "How've I done as a surrogate father?"

Remus smiled slightly.

"You've done extraordinarily well, Harry. Thank you."

The man swelled with pride and Remus felt a pang of nostalgia sweep through him. He had always found it charming when Harry - the Harry from _his_ time - had swelled with pride when Remus complimented him. The fact that twenty years hadn't dimmed the admiration made Remus's heart ache.

"What did you say to each other?" Harry asked. "I expect he had loads of questions."

"Not really, actually. I suspect that's a credit to you and his grandmother, keeping the...the memories alive."

"He was a curious child. Reminded me of Tonks in a way. But then he'd have very quiet moments and that was when I saw you. I can't even begin to tell you how hard that was."

Remus swallowed, trying to get the hot lump of emotion in his throat to go away.

"I'm sorry I...I couldn't be here for you," was all he managed to say.

Harry shook his head with a smile, his eyes shimmering with tears.

"You're here now."

Remus frowned slightly.

"Yes, but... but not for long, Harry. I have to go back..."

"Oh, yes... I know. I just... it's just so good to see you, Remus."

Then he gave a deep sigh.

"Well...they say you're ready to leave the Infirmary. Ginny and I have made up the guest bedroom of our house, so you can stay there as long as you need. It's quiet...more so now that the boys are in school...but Lily will be happy for the company."

Remus nodded.

"I'm grateful for that, Harry, but...oughtn't I start work right away on getting back to my own time?" he asked.

"Yes. Yes, of course. Well, I've had all the books from Grimmauld Place transferred to our house, and I'll do what I can to get you access to whatever you need in the Ministry. Arthur said he'd be happy to help as much as he can. Ron too, but I should warn you that Ron's strong suit isn't really research."

"That should be good to start. Thanks."

Harry nodded, and then cleared his throat.

"Hermione said she'd help, if she had time."

Remus looked up quickly, but Harry avoided his eyes.

"If she has time?" Remus repeated.

"Well...y'know...she has a full time job and a family to take care of. She was very keen, only..." He hesitated, and then pressed on. "It's just that she's rather...stressed...at the moment."

"Why?" Remus asked.

"Oh...well. You know. Stress of being a working mum, I suppose. Hard to say. I...er...don't see her as often as I'd like."

Remus frowned.

"Why?" he repeated.

Harry shrugged, though he avoided eye contact.

"You know...I have a family. And being Head Auror is a challenge. Besides, she's so busy that I probably wouldn't see her even if did have the time."

Even though he was twenty years older, Remus knew when Harry was being evasive. He gave the man a steady look and waited. Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"Look, it's...it's been complicated. There was a point when we were all as thick as thieves, the four of us. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and I. But then the kids came. And Ron and Hermione moved out of town to be closer to his parents. Ginny and I moved to Godric's Hollow and...well...we just grew apart."

"But you see Ron every day. You work with him. Surely-"

"Ron and I...we're partners, it's true, but..."

Harry heaved a deep sigh and looked at Remus.

"A lot can change in twenty years, Remus. I'm sure you of all people know that."

"Yes, but under no circumstances could I have ever imagined the three of you simply drifting apart. Something happened and you're not telling me."

"What possible good would it do, Remus? You're leaving."

Remus really couldn't argue with that. Yet something inside him told him to push the issue. Even though he was very clearly not in his own time, in no reality he could think of would Harry, Ron and Hermione no longer be close friends.

"Harry," Remus said very steadily. "What happened?"

Harry looked at him for a long moment before closing his eyes.

"It started soon after Hermione graduated from Hogwarts. I told you she came back the year after the war, didn't I? To finish her schooling?"

"Yes."

"Well, Ron was helping...helping George out at the store that year and they...Hermione and Ron, that is…I suppose you could say they grew up a little...experienced life without each other. When Hermione returned, she was focused, a bit fiercer...ambitious. And Ron...well, Ron had seen what the war had done to his family and he was desperate..._desperate_...to start one of his own. So when she got out of school he sort of...assumed, I suppose...that they would be married and have children and sort of live happily ever after."

"Which they did...or so you led me to believe."

"They did marry...eventually. I think Hermione was sort of hoping that he'd give up on her...find another witch to settle down with. But when Ron gets an idea in his head..." Harry trailed off for a minute, running a hand over his face. "Hermione and George were keen on each other. I knew that. But watching Ron flounce around like a prat, making all these plans...I couldn't bring myself to tell him. So I...I set George up with Angelina. George knew Ron wanted to be with Hermione and being his brother he wasn't about to...well, he and Angelina just sort of...of took off. Soon after, Hermione started dating Ron again. But I think she knew it'd been me that had…had steered George in a different direction. She and I…we were never the same after that."

Remus felt like he was missing a vital part, so he kept silent and waited for Harry to continue.

"Eventually...Ginny and I were already married, so it was a few years on...Hermione finally agreed to marry Ron. I don't know what changed her mind. I know Molly's badgering couldn't have helped. But she married him and just...seemed to stop being Hermione. She became quiet...docile, even. She gave up her demanding job in the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures and moved into the Department of Law Enforcement under Arthur. Then when Rose came along...I don't think Hermione ever expected to have children...I don't even know if she wanted them...well, she became withdrawn. There were moments in Rose's early life that Hermione just...didn't seem to want to be there. Ron had to pick up the slack. I don't think he ever forgave her for that."

Harry took another breath, organizing his thoughts. Remus could feel the stirrings of rage deep within him for the stubborn redhead who he imagined was more than likely the catalyst for Hermione's apparent descent.

"Ron thought another baby would be the answer. He always wanted a big family. Hugo was a complete surprise to Hermione. I think she thought she was okay with whatever contraception she was using but...but I wouldn't have put it past Ron...he wanted a son, you see..." Harry saw the anger building behind Remus's eyes and he sighed again. "She never forgave him for that either."

"That was years ago, Harry," Remus said steadily, though he could feel his blood boiling at the situation Hermione had been thrust into. "Hugo is almost of school age. Why is she still with Ron?"

Harry looked at the ground, then back up.

"Over the years...I don't really know how he did it because Lord knows I don't think he's smart enough to pull it off on his own...Ron managed to...to cut people out of their lives that weren't direct family or friends of his. He knew Hermione wasn't close to Ginny and I anymore, but all the same we haven't really socialized with them, except if the children are involved. She used to be very good friends with some school friends...Parvati and Luna and some others...but Ron just...I think he treated them so coldly that they didn't want to spend time with both of them together, and then Hermione got so busy with work and raising the children that she never really had the time...and when she did he'd always have plans with his family that she had to attend. He's trapped her so that...I think she feels that even if she did leave, she wouldn't have anywhere to go."

"But that's nonsense! She has you and Ginny, and I'm sure if she showed up at the door of any of her old friends' houses they'd take her in."

"Yes. But she loves her children, Remus. And Ron wouldn't let her take them away."

Remus shook his head.

"I don't understand. I can't imagine Ron being capable of such...cruelty. I mean I knew he wasn't the brightest tool in the shed but this just seems...I mean..."

"A lot changed that year before the war, Remus," Harry said. "We told you that Ron, Hermione and I left school and spent the year searching for Voldemort's horcruxes but...but it wasn't simple. Obviously. Ron...well, he got...impatient. He was affected by the locket more severely than the rest of us. He left us for a bit. Ran away to Bill...hid. He came back and we forgave him but...he was never the same. He was darker. Less compassionate. More willing to resort to violence. When he got something in his mind...well... nothing could really change it."

Remus cocked his head to the side.

"And what has he gotten into his head?"

Harry closed his eyes once more, taking a deep breath before looking up at Remus with a mixture of sadness and regret.

"That Hermione belongs to him."

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading!<em>

_You guys are the best!_


	6. Chapter 6

**_A/N: Well, it has been another unforgivably long time since I've updated, hasn't it?_  
><strong>

_My general apologies to all who have been patiently waiting for updates on this, as well as **Playing the Players **and **Interviewing Casanova. **I took a bit of a break to step away from HPff and work on some original stuff, but I'm back because I am DETERMINED to finish all of my WIPs. I know I hate it when things are abandoned, so I can only imagine how some of you must feel about me._

_As with most things, this is unbeta'd. So do be nice and if you do feel the need to be a grammar nazi (or as I like to call you, a twat) then do so at your own peril._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six: Falling Back - A Small Step Forward<strong>

Hermione stared at herself in the mirror, trying to school her look of dismay so as not to disappoint the beaming redhead at her shoulder. Incredibly superficial though it was - and she fully acknowledged the personality flaw - in that moment Hermione would have given anything in the world to go back to her own time if it meant she would never have to wear the clothes she now found herself wearing.

She had seen the fashions her mother had worn in her youth through the pictures hastily stuffed in albums throughout her house. She now understood her mother's embarrassment.

The fashions of the 1970s were, quite simply, grotesque.

"When Dumbledore asked me to do some shopping for you, I was over the moon! Do you know how lucky you are? These are the absolute _latest_ fashions."

'Please don't let anyone have a camera,' Hermione thought, turning around and giving her smiling friend the best look of gratitude she could muster.

"Thanks, Lily," she said, trying not cringe at the garish orange colour of the polyester mini-dress that showed off more of her legs than she ever thought she'd show. Even the patterned tights - which itched like crazy - and the white, knee-high patent leather boots did nothing to help her feeling of discomfort at how much she was exposing.

She was only slightly mollified by the knowledge that Lily, who was taller and had longer legs, was wearing almost the same outfit in bright green.

"I _was_ going to go with something a little more conservative," Lily said, looking Hermione up and down to make sure everything was in its proper place. "But then..."

She trailed off with a mischievous smile and Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"But then what?" she asked suspiciously.

"Well, I just _happened_ to notice the attention that Sirius and Remus were giving you and I thought...why not give them something more to fight over?"

"Excuse me?!" Hermione cried.

Lily laughed. "Oh come on, 'Mione, I've seen the way your eyes dart to the two of them. To James too, but I recognize the difference. You and James are kindred spirits - for some reason you get along like best friends and were I a lesser woman I would be jealous. I'm not, by the way...so long as you don't have any attraction to—"

"No!" Hermione cried, eyes wide with horror at the mere thought.

"Right then. So...you and Remus. Or Sirius, but I'd prefer you with—"

"Lily, I'm _not_ here to date anyone, _least_ of all Remus _or_ Sirius! I mean...I'm still so new to the school," Hermione tried to reason, willing the blush from her cheeks.

Lily smirked. "The lady doth protest too much, methinks," she said airily before walking over to the dressing table. "Now...make up and accessories."

Hermione sighed, sitting heavily on her bed. She had been in 1976 for over a month, and while she enjoyed the company of Lily and the Marauders, there were some things she desperately wished she could escape. Like Sirius's incessant flirting. Or the girlish tendency towards clothes and makeup that Lily seemed to have when she wasn't with the boys.

Or the long, soulful looks that Remus gave her when he thought she wasn't looking.

It was all getting to be too much. She was getting a little too comfortable, feeling a little too deeply for her new friends, and fitting in a little too well with the academics. And to top it off, Dumbledore had yet to summon her so they could start figuring out a way to get her back to her own time.

"We need to make your eyes pop," Lily was saying, kneeling in front of Hermione with a truly staggering amount of black Kohl liner. Steeling herself for the inevitable, Hermione allowed Lily to do her work. She imagined her fellow witch was as starved for female companionship as she herself was after so much time spent with men.

"And a bracelet for the finishing touch...voila!" Lily said brightly after slipping a large white enamel bracelet on Hermione's wrist. Glancing in the mirror, Hermione smiled slightly. Not a fashion plate by any means, but she admitted that Lily knew what she was doing.

"Now let's go before the boys give up on us and we're forced to find them in Hogsmeade," the exuberant redhead declared, tossing Hermione a mercifully conservative navy blue pea coat and pulling her down the stairs.

"Finally! You lot take _forever_!" James said, unfolding his arms and pushing himself up from the deep armchair within which he had been sitting. Sirius, who had been perched on the back of the sofa, leapt to the ground and strode over to Hermione, bowing low and taking her hand.

"Although it is, of course, beauty's privilege," he said with a lopsided grin and a wink.

"Where's Peter?" Lily asked, slipping her hand easily into James's.

"Detention. Something about messing with Slughorn's potion stores," James replied before adding, "You look very nice, Hermione."

"Yes, it's a treat to see you out of your school uniform," Sirius said, the gleam in his grey-green eyes signalling that he was not necessarily referring to her outfit.

"Rest assured, Sirius, that this is the most you'll see of me out of my uniform," Hermione said dryly, giving the man a level stare.

"Pity. Well, they've always told me that I have a wildly active imagination, Brown Eyes, so I suppose I'll just have to use it." He wriggled his eyebrows at this, and Hermione couldn't help but chuckle before her eyes fell on the other occupant in the room, who hadn't uttered a word.

"Moony, don't tell me you're bringing that old thing along," James said, oblivious to his friend's silence, and Hermione's eyes were drawn to the vintage camera that hung around Remus's neck.

"I thought I'd get a few snaps, seeing as it's our last year," he said softly, averting his eyes from Hermione to fiddle with the controls of the instrument.

"But the pictures don't even move," James whined, and Hermione couldn't help but be reminded of how Ron seemed incapable of comprehending the simplicity of Muggle inventions. She liked that James was just the right combination of her two best friends. It comforted her in an odd way; making her feel less like an outsider in this surreal experience.

"Some people just enjoy the art of capturing a photo, James," Lily scolded lightly, sending Remus a supportive smile.

"Personally, I think a well-captured still is akin to the beauty of a Michelangelo or a Rembrandt," Hermione added.

"Who?" both Sirius and James said, to which Lily, Remus and Hermione all sighed.

"One day, the two of you will actually learn to pay attention in Muggle Studies," Remus said to his friends before adding, "Shall we start off?"

"Absolutely," Sirius said before proffering his arm to Hermione. "Shall we, Brown Eyes?"

Hermione caught Lily's knowing look and hesitated. As much as she hated to admit it, her friend had been right about Sirius and Remus's constant attention. She was caught at an impasse now, with Sirius waiting for a response and Remus trying not to look disappointed but failing miserably.

In her head, she wondered which would be worse: stringing Sirius along in order to avoid her very real emotions for Remus, or risk everything by giving in just a tiny bit to Remus, in order to avoid stringing Sirius along.

Somewhere in her head she could imagine Ginny scolding her, telling her there were definitely worse choices to make.

"I prefer to walk on my own, thank you," Hermione said smartly to Sirius. "Women are, I think, capable of at least walking without the aid of a male companion, don't you think?" As Sirius's brow furrowed, Hermione knew that the militant feminist route was the wisest way to go. "As much as I sometimes appreciate the gentlemanly mannerisms that go along with societal propriety, I never understood the proffered arm. It seems almost condescending," she continued, stealing a glance at Lily.

The redhead seemed torn between horror and agreement, while both James and Remus were doing nothing to hide their amusement as Sirius looked utterly perplexed.

"I was only trying to be polite," he said, sounding legitimately wounded.

Softening her stance a little, Hermione gave a gracious nod. "I appreciate it. But so long as my legs and feet remain functional, I should very much like the autonomy of walking on my own."

And with a theatrical flip her hair that even Hermione had to admit as fairly melodramatic, she walked out of the common room.

She allowed herself a quiet exhale and a small smile as she heard her companions follow her, along with a mumbled, "Just trying to be a bloody gentleman," from Sirius as the pouting pureblood brought up the rear.

"Well-played," Lily muttered as she caught up with Hermione. "Though why you didn't just say 'no' and go to walk with Remus—"

"Lily," Hermione said as evenly as she could. "While I appreciate your kind suggestions, I am honestly _not_ looking for any type of romantic attachment."

Lily gave a knowing look. "You say that now, but from the looks of things..."

Lily was unable to finish her thought, however, as at that moment a flushed young first-year came galloping up to them. She handed Hermione a scroll with wide brown eyes.

"The Headmaster wishes to see you," she squeaked, eyes flicking nervously to Sirius and James.

"Wha...now?" Sirius asked, to which the first year flushed an even deeper red.

"Yes. I'm sorry," she said breathlessly before scampering away.

Hermione let out the sigh of relief she had been holding. "Well, that's a shame," she said, trying to inject as much sincerity as possible. "Just my luck, of course."

"Come on...we can get the first year to say she didn't find you until after you came back from Hogsmeade. Won't be too hard, as I think that one fancies Potter here," Sirius said, nudging James as if to tell him to do something.

"No, that's alright. I'll go next time," Hermione replied as Lily shot a glare Sirius's way.

"Do you want us to wait for you?" Remus asked. "Maybe it won't take too long."

"Oh, no. I couldn't ask that of you. You go ahead. I'll see you tonight," she replied, smiling softly at the tender-hearted man she had been trying desperately to distance herself from.

He blushed and looked away.

"Well, if you're sure," James said, wisely refraining from commenting on Remus's sudden flush in complexion.

"Yes. Go," Hermione said with a decisive nod.

"Okay. We'll bring you back something from Honeydukes," Lily said, and Hermione smiled and watched the quartet walk down the hallway before turning to go to the Headmaster's office, opening the scroll as she walked.

"I enjoy a good treacle tart," was all it said, and Hermione felt a pang of nostalgia as she mulled over Dumbledore's continued enjoyment of sweets.

Once she had navigated past the stone gargoyle and reached the office door, she gave a firm knock. The door opened immediately.

Cool onyx eyes, a crooked nose, and a superior sneer greeted her from a face that had yet to see the years that the face she knew well had seen. It was a face she had seen in the halls and had noticed in classrooms, but for the first time in a month, she was close enough to touch him.

She recoiled visibly. "Snape," she whispered, her hand going to her wand before she could stop herself, rage searing through her.

He jumped back at this seemingly unwarranted aggression, drawing his own wand quickly.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore's calm but firm voice sounded from inside the office. His tone cooled her ire, and she stowed her wand as quickly as she had drawn it.

"I'm sorry...Severus," she said, the name so unfamiliar on her tongue that she hesitated before saying it. "I suppose I'm a bit edgy today."

"I was just leaving, if that's alright with you," he replied coldly, reluctantly stowing his own wand.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, though she still didn't feel as sorry as she knew she should be. The wounds the older version of him had inflicted on her life were still too raw, in spite of knowing he hadn't committed them yet.

He breezed by her without a word.

Hermione let out a breath and entered into the Headmaster's cavernous office.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said serenely, though his eyes bore into her with unasked questions. "I see Miss Evans was able to outfit you with the appropriate fashions of the day."

"Er...yes," Hermione replied, consciously tugging at the hem of her dress. "Thank you."

"Not at all. Now, before we proceed, I really must ask...are you having any problems with Mr. Snape?"

Hermione sighed. "No, sir," she said. "At least...not with this one."

"Am I to assume that you are familiar with his elder counterpart?"

"Far more intimately than I'd like to be, sir," she said, jaw clenched as memories of her last night in her time flew through her mind.

"I trust you'll keep your emotions in check the next time you and Mr. Snape cross paths."

As with everything Dumbledorean, the tone of his voice was calm but the meaning behind it was unmistakable.

"Yes sir," Hermione replied.

"Good. Now, please. Sit," he said, graciously extending his hand to one of the chairs in front of his desk. She sat, and he made his way to sit across from her. "I was able to procure the hourglass with little difficulty, though Professor Slughorn believes I am using it to keep an eye on how long my meetings run."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "But...Professor Slughorn won't believe that. That particular hourglass slows down when a discussion is particularly fascinating," she said.

Dumbledore arched an eyebrow. "Does it? Well, that seems incredibly counter-productive for my alleged purposes," was all he replied with.

Hermione thought it best not to question it any further.

"I've done a few preliminary tests and can find nothing out of the ordinary with it," Dumbledore continued. "I am therefore convinced that it must have something directly to do with you."

"Really?" she asked, staring at the hourglass in fascination. She had been so used to everything having to do with Harry that for something to be associated solely with her was so out-of-the-ordinary, it bordered on science-fiction.

Then again, she was a teenage witch who had apparently time travelled 20 years, so perhaps "science-fiction" was apropos.

"Take a closer look, Miss Granger," Dumbledore suggested, beckoning her closer to the desk. She followed, watching with curiosity as the sand started to swirl faster the closer she approached.

The moment she reached out to touch it, the hourglass started to vibrate. When she lay a tentative finger on the glass, the bottom bell illuminated with a bright, beautiful, golden light.

"Fascinating," Dumbledore said, watching Hermione cradle the instrument in her hands. "I've always thought the bottom bell signified time past. I suppose that is why it responds to you. You have gone into the time that has past. I wonder, however, why the top bell isn't glowing like its counterpart."

Hermione had the sneaking suspicion that Dumbledore knew precisely why the top bell wasn't glowing, and she risked a glance up into his penetrating blue orbs to see him watching her.

"I...I don't know," she said, hastily putting the hourglass down. The light started to fade, but the sand still swirled around the glass.

"Miss Granger, I had hoped we had established enough of a report that you wouldn't feel the need to hide crucial information from me," Dumbledore said, his eyes still gazing unblinkingly at her.

She pinked. "I...er...I'm really only protecting the future, headmaster. If I reveal too much, it will change things."

Dumbledore leaned forward, looking at her intently. "I respect that, Miss Granger. Truly. And if you are keeping something from me that could, if revealed, compromise your future then I will not question you again."

Hermione looked at the hourglass, her mind turning over Dumbledore's words. If the bottom half of an hourglass represented time past, then it stood to reason that the top half represented the time yet to come. And if the bottom bell of the hourglass responded to her, then it stood to reason that the top half would respond to the only other person who was in the room when the hourglass exploded.

Which meant that Remus was...in the future?

That made even less sense than her falling backward in time. And why would the hourglass respond that way in the first place?

So many questions.

"Sir," Hermione finally said. "I wasn't alone in the room when I...when I went back in time. I...I cannot reveal who I was with, but that person did not follow me here."

"I suspected as much," Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair with a slight smile. "Do you have a theory as to where...that person is?"

"I believe that...if the hourglass is the key, and it reacts to me this way, then it stands to reason that it would react to...that person...the opposite way."

"In that, the top half of the hourglass would react to them," he said.

"Yes."

"Yes, I agree. Now, in order to ascertain why the two of you were effected by this particular hourglass, I need to know the relationship between you and your...companion."

Hermione sighed. "It's...it's complicated."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Of that I have no doubt, Miss Granger. But let me ask some clarifying questions. Was this person male or female?"

"Male."

"And since the relationship between you is complicated, am I safe to assume that there is some...romantic attachment?"

Hermione blushed. "I...not anything that manifested itself in...that is to say..."

She struggled to find the words, and Dumbledore smiled slightly. "You're in love with him."

She sighed. "Yes."

"And is he in love with you?"

"No. At least...I don't think so."

"You're sure?"

Hermione hesitated, then silently shook her head.

"And was there a reason why the two of you couldn't be together?"

"He had...has...a girlfriend."

Dumbledore nodded. "Any other reason? Perhaps one to do with time?"

It was then that Hermione got the distinct impression that Dumbledore was leading her to an answer he already knew. She suddenly started to appreciate Harry's occasional annoyance at Dumbledore's seemingly-enigmatic qualities.

"He...he's older than me."

Dumbledore nodded. "How much older?"

Then the lightbulb went off. "Twenty years older," she said softly, everything tumbling into place all at once.

Dumbledore leaned forward once more. "Is it safe to assume that the younger version of this man is a student here?"

"Yes," she replied.

"And have you interacted with him while you've been here?"

"Yes."

Dumbledore nodded. "Miss Granger, magic is a very powerful thing. A young woman as smart as you knows this, especially since you are Muggleborn and had no connection to magic until you were eleven. The most important thing to remember, though, is that there is a form of magic much more powerful than spells and wand work. And that is—"

"Love," she finished, a pang in her heart as she remembered numerous conversations with Harry regarding these same words from the same man almost twenty years in the future.

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "I have yet to understand the purpose that crafted this particular hourglass, Miss Granger, but the thing that brought you to this time, and most likely sent your companion into the future, is the love that exists between the two of you. I think you owe it to yourself to pursue it."

"But sir, surely if it's one-sided..."

"I can assure you of one thing, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said with a gentle smile, "And that is that magic this powerful does not respond to just any type of love...nor a love that is simply one-sided."

Hermione stared at him for a long moment before speaking again. "So you're saying that Re—that the man I love...loves me back?"

He nodded. "It would not have sent you here otherwise. My thought...and this is just a theory but I am rather clever and so will work under the assumption that it is true...is that your love transcends time."

Hermione frowned. "But how does that help me get home?" she asked.

"I don't know yet," Dumbledore admitted. Then he smiled. "But I look forward to finding out."

* * *

><p><em>Once again, apologies for the delay.<em>

_Hope you liked the update!_

script type="text/javascript"

var _gaq = _gaq || [];  
>_ (['_setAccount', 'UA-35042036-1']);<br>_ (['_setDomainName', ' ']);  
>_ (['_trackPageview']);<p>

(function() {  
>var ga = ('script'); = 'textjavascript'; = true;  
>= ('https:' == .protocol ? ' ssl' : ' www') + '. ';<br>var s = ('script')[0]; .insertBefore(ga, s);  
>})();<p>

/script


	7. Chapter 7

**_A/N: _**_::le gasp!:: Another update? So soon? But...but...months haven't gone by!_

_Yeah, yeah, I know. Hardy har har._

_Again - unbeta'd. Don't whinge...it's unattractive._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven: Springing Forward – The Lost Olympian Hourglass<strong>

Remus exhaled deeply as he stepped out into the cool autumn night. The silence was a stark contrast to the sounds of merriment in the Burrow. He watched the vapour of his breath disappear into the air and he wondered at how something so familiar could seem to strange. Twenty years into the future and the impromptu gathering at the Weasleys still felt stifling. The company hadn't changed much and yet he felt as if he was meeting half of them for the first time.

It had been over a month since he had arrived at this timeline and with every passing day he was learning more and more about what had changed. The biggest shock had been Arthur and Molly. They were approaching their seventies and enjoying retirement. Molly had lost some of her bloom. Arthur was slightly stooped, as if weighed down by all of the tragedies that had befallen the family. And while they were both incredibly happy to see him, they were the most obvious sign of the progression of time. Harry still carried some of the childlike reverence he had once possessed for Remus. Arthur and Molly, however, no longer treated him like a peer. They were over thirty years older than him now.

The party had been a homecoming party for him. Almost everyone Remus had ever known was behind the door that now stood behind him. He was painfully aware of who was missing. Ron was there, of course, throwing back firewhisky and arguing with George. But he had come alone. Ginny had quietly told Remus that it had been difficult enough to convince him to come; getting him to bring Hermione would have been wishful thinking. It had taken every ounce of will-power Remus possessed not to punch the drunken redhead when he arrived.

"I thought you'd be out here."

He spun around, reflexes going for his wand and pointing it at the intruder to his solitude. He was met with a soft, understanding smile and large, warm honey eyes. Twenty years had changed her only slightly. There were a few strands of grey hair and a wrinkle or two around her eyes, but he would recognize that compassionate face anywhere.

"Hermione."

Her smile broadened at the recognition and a hint of that open, toothy grin he remembered came through. "Hello, Remus."

He didn't know what pushed him to do it, but in two long strides he was in front of her, arms enveloping her body in a hug and holding her as if he never wanted to let her go. She went rigid for a second, as if unused to such warm human contact and shocked by the familiarity of the act. Then she relaxed in his arms and allowed herself to be held. He buried his head in her hair, inhaling the scent of orange blossoms that was still so uniquely her. For the first time since he had woken up in that hospital bed, everything felt right.

She pulled away slowly, looking up at him. "I can't stay long," she said. "I asked a neighbour to look in on Hugo but I don't want to inconvenience her too much. I just…I have something for you. For your research."

He shook his head as she went for her purse. "I…it's just so good to see you, Hermione."

She smiled again. "It's good to see you too." She pulled an hourglass from the purse and handed it to him. "Here."

He frowned at it. "How did you…is this…?"

"I heard James found you in the Potions professor's rooms. I did the math. Professor Slughorn left me his hourglass before he passed. I…I figured it's as good a start as any."

Remus took it from her and was about to respond when it started to vibrate. Looking closely at it he watched, spellbound, as the top bell burst into a beautiful golden glow. He watched, mesmerized, as the sand swirled rapidly. It didn't, however, fall into the bottom bell like it was supposed to. It simply hung in the air, as if waiting for something.

He frowned again. "That's strange."

"Yes…it's never done that before except…" She trailed off, brow furrowed before shaking her head. "Curious."

"Except when?" he whispered, heart leaping into his throat. Did this Hermione know what happened to the version of her that he had left in Slughorn's rooms?

"I…never mind," she replied, looking down.

"Do you…do you remember seeing it do this before?"

Hermione hesitated. "Not…not exactly. It's nothing. Stupid, really."

"Nothing's ever stupid with you, 'Mione," he said softly.

She gave a soft chuckle. "Nobody's called me ''Mione' in years," she remarked. Then she sighed. "A lot's changed, Remus. I haven't been the bossy, precocious little know-it-all for quite some time now."

"You were never…who called you that?"

She laughed. "Come on, Remus. It may have been twenty years ago, but I still remember what people thought of me. Harry Potter's nerdy little friend, nose always in a book, has to be the smartest in the room…"

"I never thought that, 'Mione. I always thought you were the brightest—"

"'The brightest witch of her age.' Yes, I remember," she finished. She sighed again. "As I said…a lot's changed."

Remus took a step toward her, pausing when she flinched. "What happened, 'Mione?" he asked quietly. "What happened to the bright, confident, independent girl I knew?"

She looked up at him and he had to suppress a shudder when he realized just how haunted those beautiful amber orbs of hers were. She stayed silent for a long moment before softly saying, "She grew up."

"Oh 'Mione…"

"I should go," she interrupted, stepping back. "It was really lovely to see you, Remus."

"Hermione, wait," he said but she was gone before he could say anything else.

"There you are!" a voice said and Remus turned to see Luna starting towards him. "People are starting to wonder where the guest of honour is."

"I…er…I just came out to…um…get a bit of air."

"Is that an hourglass? That seems like a funny thing to carry around with you."

"I'm not just carrying…I'll put it away."

"Wait," she said, her attention fixed to the object in his hand. Remus was grateful that it was no longer glowing, but he had a feeling Luna was noticing something that had nothing to do with telling the time.

"I should…I should probably go back inside, shouldn't I?" he said, eyeing her.

"Fascinating," Luna said, ignoring his question. "The sand…it seems to be swirling and falling in a pattern." She strode over to him and pressed her nose to the glass, her protuberant blue eyes looking even bigger as she took no notice of how she was definitely violating his personal space. Then she pointed and looked at him. "See? The sand is arching. It looks almost like—"

"A heart," he finished, examining the sand closer.

"Exactly," she said, beaming up at him. "You, my friend, are very lucky."

"Er…how's that?" he asked, not feeling particularly lucky considering the circumstances of recent events.

She frowned. "Come now. Surely you know what this is?"

"Uh…is it not just an hourglass?"

She gave him a look that told him just how thick she seemed to find him, which twenty years had not dulled his frustration to. "Remus, this is the lost Olympian hourglass."

Remus sighed. Twenty years had also not dulled her imaginative theories. "There's no such thing, Luna. It's a myth."

She cocked her head to the side. "It takes a very special type of ignorance not to believe something that's right in front of you."

Remus bristled. "Just because the sand is arching into hearts doesn't mean this is the lost Olympian hourglass."

"Perhaps not. But the Latin written on the side might be a clue. And the doves on the handles? Or the scallop shells on the—"

"Alright," he interrupted wearily, remembering how these types of arguments could last forever. "Say this _is_ the lost Olympian hourglass…why does that make me lucky?"

"Well, because it means you have the opportunity to find your true love while you're in this timeline."

Remus knew he was going to regret asking, but he pushed through and said, "How?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

He sighed, mumbling, "Of course you don't."

If she heard his sarcasm, she didn't comment. Instead she said, "If you're really interested, you should research it. The Department of Mysteries has a whole section on time-travelling artefacts."

This made Remus start. "Wait. Time-travelling artefacts?"

"Of course. This _is_ the hourglass that brought you forward in time, isn't it?"

He gaped at her. "How on earth did you—"

"It's an hourglass, Remus," she said, speaking slowly as if he were an idiot. "Hourglasses are the physical embodiment of time. The convergence of time still to come with time past. Why do you think all of the time turners were hourglasses? Goodness…I thought everyone knew that." Then she shrugged and walked back inside.

Remus blinked and looked back at the hourglass. So now he had the answer to 'what' and 'how' to go along with the 'who,' 'when' and 'where.' All he needed now was a 'why,' which he could only learn by understanding the mysterious object he was holding. Cynical as he was, he was willing to suspend his doubt and believe that Slughorn's hourglass was, in fact, the lost Olympian hourglass. It wasn't much, but it was the first solid lead he had.

"Remus? What on earth are you doing out here? Is that an hourglass?"

"I know things have changed, mate, but even twenty years ago we had watches."

Remus couldn't help but smile as George and Angelina walked over to him. He hadn't known Angelina beyond a professor-student relationship when she was a student, but observing her that night with George, he knew she was a good egg. George, though older and starting to bald like his father, had changed very little, which was how Remus liked it.

Despite it being a little hard to see the man without his twin by his side.

"It's a clue. I think," he said to the approaching pair. "To my current…predicament."

"Hey, I recognize that hourglass," Angelina said. "That was Professor Slughorn's."

"Oh yeah," George replied. "I remember. Supposed to slow down when the conversation was particularly riveting. Never understood how anyone could have a riveting conversation with old Sluggie but…how did you get it?"

"I…er…a friend. Dropped it off just now."

Angelina smiled slightly. "Hermione?"

Remus blinked. "What? No…"

"It was," George said confidently. "It's alright. We thought she'd come 'round. It's why we've been keeping Ron away from the doors and windows all evening."

"Though I'm sure we can agree you could have done without shovelling alcohol down his throat," Angelina commented, giving a disapproving sniff. "He's unbearable enough sober. It's just amplified when he drinks."

"How can you tell the difference," Remus mumbled, glancing murderously at the door of the Burrow.

George sighed. "I owe him a lot, because he helped me after Fred died, but…I don't agree with how he's handled…things."

Remus felt his nostrils flare. "And by 'things' you mean Hermione?"

"We're as frustrated as you, Remus, truly," Angelina said. "He's been a complete arsehole. We never see her anymore and it's all because of him."

"From what I've heard, nobody's been making much of an effort. Ron's not exactly a mastermind. There were ways," Remus argued darkly.

Both had the decency to look shamefaced, and Angelina looked at the ground. "We tried for a long time. We all did. But…once the kids came…" She trailed off and sighed before adding. "We thought she might come tonight. At least…we hoped she would. Which was why we kept Ron occupied."

"She took it really hard when you…died," George said solemnly to Remus. "We all did, of course, but Hermione especially. We always knew she had a schoolgirl crush on you but…after the war she…she went into herself for awhile. I mean, she studied hard, left school with exceedingly high marks as we all knew she would but…well…"

"Going into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures wasn't exactly the career move anyone expected," Angelina explained.

"I think…well, I'm fairly sure that she did it for you," George admitted.

"Most of the amendments to the werewolf legislation were written by her."

"Which is why we expected her to show up tonight," George finished. "To see you."

Remus felt his heart start to race a little faster at the thought that Hermione had once harboured feelings for him in this timeline. It reminded him of their conversation in Slughorn's office before the whole time-travelling mess had started. He wondered if a similar conversation had happened in this reality.

"George," he said, having a thought. "I'm going to tax your memory for a moment. After Dumbledore…died…when we were in the Infirmary and Dora admitted…admitted that she loved me…do you remember where Hermione was?"

George's brow furrowed for a moment then he shook his head. "Twenty years ago, mate. I barely remember where I was. It was a tough time for us all." He tilted his head to the side. "Why do you ask?"

Remus hesitated, but knew that he needed to confide in someone. "Hermione was with me when I…time-travelled. I mean, right before. I had followed her to Slughorn's office and we were talking. I just…I wonder if that…conversation…happened in _this_ timeline."

"You should ask her," George said.

Angelina scoffed. "He'll never get near her."

George gave a mischievous smile. "He will if we help him."

A slow, playful smile started to spread across Angelina's face. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"A little diversionary tactic, my dear?"

"Exactly."

In that moment, something passed between the pair and Remus was suddenly struck by why he trusted the two together. They shared an intimacy that Remus had only seen once before: James and Lily. They had an impish, conspiratorial relationship that endeared Angelina to him immediately. She was good for George because, like Lily to James, she understood George in a way few people did.

It made Remus think better of George as well, for abandoning Hermione to be with Angelina. Hermione would have never been the co-conspirator George needed. As a twin, George had been used to having someone on the same wavelength. Angelina was not a perfect replacement for Fred, but a solid, inimitable partner in her own right.

"Alright, here's the plan," George finally said aloud to Remus after a moment of silent conference with his wife. "I'll invite Ron out for drinks, then you and Angelina will go to their house to see Hermione."

"I'll be there to watch Hugo, just in case 'Mione uses that as an excuse. She's done that before," Angelina explained.

"That should buy you a few hours."

"To catch up."

"Or…whatever."

Remus ignored George's thinly-veiled innuendo and asked, "Why would you do that for me? I mean…you don't even know what we were talking about in my timeline."

George smirked. "Handsome devil like you alone with an attractive younger woman who happens to adore you? I don't need a crystal ball."

"George! Don't sully it," Angelina scolded.

Remus hoped he wasn't blushing, but was grateful for the darkness of the night just in case. "It wasn't…like that," he stammered. "You'll remember, I married Dora in this timeline."

"And Hermione married Ron. Mistakes made all 'round, I think."

"George!"

Remus couldn't help but smile slightly. "Alright. When do you want to do this clandestine operation?"

"We'll contact you," Angelina said. "Unfortunately, it can't happen immediately because Ron always likes to stay close to home for a few weeks after a big party like this. George won't be able to convince him out for awhile."

"Plus, I'm out of town on business for the next week," George said. "We've just launched a few stores over in America and I need to go make sure everything is operational."

"We won't back out on you, though. We swear it," Angelina promised.

George slung an arm around Remus's shoulder. "Don't worry mate," he said with a boyish grin that made Remus's heart hurt nostalgically. "We'll get you to her."

Remus smiled. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

"You're very welcome. Though I'm sure you know I'll have to bill you for the service."

"George!"

"Oh, alright. This one's free."

Angelina shot her husband a glare before smiling at Remus. "Now," she said. "Let's get you back inside before Molly calls out the Aurors for you."

"Though heaven knows where she'll find some, because most of them are here and drunk as hell," George joked, steering Remus toward the door.

Remus simply smiled, pocketing the hourglass for later.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you for reading.<em>

_Hope you enjoyed it...more to come._


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** _Hey all-just want you to know that I'm slowly getting back to fanfic and will hopefully be updating more often. Not just this, but also 'Interviewing Casanova' and 'Playing the Players'...I know I'm abysmally behind on both!_

_Thanks to Amy (GrandeVanillaSkimLatte-read her work if you haven't yet!) for looking this over and continuing to be one of the best friends and sources of support and inspiration I've ever had. I love you, lady!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight: Falling Back – A Step in the Right Direction<strong>

Hermione dashed down the hallway, precariously navigating through the mid-afternoon press of bodies. Twenty years in the past, and the student traffic was still horrific. _'Well, some things never change,'_ she thought to herself, rounding a corner at a sprint and narrowly missing a group of Hufflepuff first years. She ignored their timid yet audible grumbles as she took the stairs two at a time down to the dungeons.

It was stupid of her to forget to set an alarm for herself while researching in the library, but she had had a lot on her mind. Unfortunately, her preoccupation had little to do with her research and more to do with the man who seemed inexplicably linked to this mystery with her, even though he was somewhere else in space and time. Her lack of focus, therefore, meant not only was she no closer to solving her ordeal, but also—and more pressing in that moment—that she was desperately late for Potions.

The deep-seated fear of tardiness ingrained in her by Professor Snape had her hurtling through the castle at a break-neck speed. Bursting into the classroom, relief washed over her at the sight of Professor Slughorn sauntering jovially toward the front of the classroom, having only just started the lesson. Her relief was short-lived, however, as residual inertia and her own fatigue had her tripping over her meddlesome feet, sending her sprawling onto the cold, slightly damp and definitively unforgiving dungeon floor.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Hermione Granger: grace personified," the teasing lilt of James's voice floated across the room. Hermione flinched slightly at the titters of laughter that followed. She was still getting used to James and Sirius's brand of humour, which seemed to rely mainly on abject mockery. Even though she knew it was playful and not at all meant to be hurtful, she had had one too many run-ins with Draco Malfoy to be completely immune to it.

Thankfully, the laughter was cut short when the sound of a hard smack reverberated through the room, informing her that one of her friends—very likely Lily—had taken umbrage on her behalf.

"My dear Miss Granger, are you injured?" Professor Slughorn asked, ambling quickly toward her as she retrieved the last of her fallen supplies.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you, sir," she said, blushing slightly as all eyes turned to her. "I'm very sorry I'm late, sir—"

"Not at all, Miss Granger, not at all! We had barely started," he assured, his kind smile reminding her that he had developed as keen an interest in her in this timeline as he had in her own, making him far more tolerant of her faults than the average student.

"Thank you, sir," she mumbled, straightening her uniform as discreetly as possible.

"In fact," he continued, heading back toward the front of the classroom and allowing her to make a beeline for her work station with Lily, James and Remus. "Your timing is quite perfect, quite perfect indeed. I believe today's lesson will be particularly fascinating to someone of your background. Didn't you tell me that your parents are Muggle healers of some kind?"

Hermione slid into the seat between Lily and Remus, taking a moment to remind herself just what exactly she had told Professor Slughorn at the Slug Club dinner. Since the description of her parents' work hadn't been particularly riveting the first time around—the story of her father being bitten by a child not striking quite the right chord—she had done some creative embellishing this time. She vaguely remembered mentioning her parents doing philanthropic dentistry work in some third-world, war-torn countries, giving them a slightly more glamorous lifestyle.

In truth, her parents _had_ once done some emergency dentistry on a resort concierge while vacationing in Jamaica, but Professor Slughorn didn't need to know particulars.

"Er…yes," she replied, trying to ignore the sneers from some of her Slytherin classmates. "Something like that."

"Wonderful! Then you should find it most interesting, because today we are going to be brewing a potion for Madame Pomfrey to regrow bones," Professor Slughorn said, now addressing the entire class. "Nasty bit of business, bone re-growth. Exceptionally painful. It has, however, saved the careers of more than a few prominent Quidditch players. In fact Dennis Chatterborn, who, as you know, is the beater for the Tutshill Tornadoes and a very dear friend, always asks me specifically to brew this potion when he competes…"

"Where were you? You disappeared after lunch," Lily asked while Professor Slughorn continued with his anecdote about a former Slug Club member. Hermione had quickly discovered that one of the privileges of belonging to that particular club was that the professor seemed to have selective hearing where she and Lily were concerned. This allowed the two of them—and by extension, James and Remus—to carry on quiet conversations without risking point deductions.

"I was in the library," Hermione replied, opening her textbook even though she was already proficient with the potion. "I lost track of time."

"You were in the library _again_?" James asked incredulously. "It's almost like you live there."

Hermione gave a wry smile. "Not all of us possess your natural intellect, James," she quipped dryly.

James heaved a melodramatic sigh. "Alas, it's true that being so naturally gifted is my unique burden to bear."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short, Prongs. We all bear you as a burden," Remus said in mock solemnity, to which Lily snorted loudly. She quickly covered it up by coughing when people glanced over curiously, but Professor Slughorn seemed deaf to them as he carried on.

"I'm just…trying to catch up," Hermione said, smiling slightly as James shot his friend and girlfriend a dirty look. "Hogwarts is a little more…er…demanding than my previous school." She did feel a little guilty lying to her friends, but knowing she could never reveal the truth she tried to cover as best she could.

"You're doing remarkably well, though," Lily assured. "And all of the professors think very highly of you."

"I just hope I can keep up," Hermione replied, not knowing what else to say in the face of such sincere support.

"You know, if it ever becomes too much, you can always study with us, 'Mione," Remus said softly, eyes downcast. "Or…if you'd rather, we could come to the library and—"

"I'm sorry, we could do what now?" James interrupted, looking appalled by the suggestion and Remus blushed slightly in response.

"We would, of course, be _thrilled_ to help you study in the library if that's where you prefer to study, 'Mione. Wouldn't we, James?" Lily asked firmly, giving her bespectacled boyfriend a dark look.

"'Thrilled' is not the adjective I would use, no," James replied. "No offense meant, 'Mione."

"None taken, James," Hermione replied with a smile.

"Don't think for a moment that you couldn't do with a few extra hours of study, Potter," Lily continued stoutly. "I saw your last Transfiguration essay."

James rolled his eyes. "Well if _someone_ let me borrow their notes, maybe it would have turned out better."

"I'm not your personal carbon copy, James Potter," Lily bristled.

"I'm not saying you are, Lils, but between Quidditch and Head Boy duties—"

"Quidditch is not an excuse for laziness, James."

"_Laziness_?!"

Remus cleared his throat significantly, eyes flickering to some of their neighbours who were watching them with ill-disguised interest. James stared right back at them with a haughtily-raised eyebrow, and they all looked away. To his credit, Professor Slughorn continued his lecture as if nothing were amiss, but Hermione didn't want to push their luck.

"I appreciate the offer," she said, lowering her voice considerably and hoping her friends would follow suit. "I'm used to studying on my own. Less distractions that way."

"I understand that," Lily said, eyes still narrowed at James. "Distractions can be quite…distracting."

"Penetrating insight, Evans."

"Do you fancy a snog _ever_ again, Potter?"

"If you ever change your mind, 'Mione," Remus said quickly, interrupting his friend before he said something stupid. "Let me…_us_…know. After all, it never hurts to have another person around to…er…brainstorm, or something," he finished lamely, a blush spreading over his cheeks that Hermione found incredibly endearing.

James nudged his friend. "Subtle, Moony," he murmured, and Remus's blush intensified as he averted his eyes, focussing on the wood grain of their work station.

Lily smacked James's arm again and he jumped, yelping, "Ouch! Damnit, woman, stop hitting me!"

"_Shh!_" Lily hissed.

"Professor," a dark, liquid voice drawled, pausing Professor Slughorn mid-sentence and causing Hermione's pulse to quicken. For several weeks, she had been able to pretend that Severus Snape didn't exist—more for reasons of self-preservation than anything else—but she was certain his next words would cause that façade to crumble.

"Sir, I'm finding Potter's blatant disrespect for your lesson highly…distracting," Severus continued, his voice already the cold silk Hermione remembered. She suppressed a shudder.

James's eyes narrowed. "Then perhaps you should concentrate more on the lesson and keep your fat nose out of other people's business," he said coldly.

"Your attention-seeking prattle makes it impossible, Potter."

Lily flinched as James's nostrils flared. "Try harder, you greasy son of a—"

"Now Mr. Potter, there's really no need to be hostile," Professor Slughorn interrupted good-naturedly, though his smile was a little tight around the edges. "And I'm sure, Mr. Snape, that Mr. Potter is lending his attention to the lesson with as much focus as you."

"I don't see how, sir, since he seems intent on listening solely to the sound of his own voice," Severus replied, sounding positively sullen. "And while his _fan club_ may appreciate his banality, I for one—"

"We're _not_ his fan club, Severus," Lily interrupted, visibly bristling. "Don't be childish."

"My dear Miss Evans," Professor Slughorn said, sounding a little weary, as if the tension between James and Severus was something he had dealt with for a very long time. "I'm sure Mr. Snape meant no offense. I'm certain he was merely remarking upon the fact that, under normal circumstances, I prefer students to work in groups of two or three. I would never presume, of course, to interfere with the academic chemistry of a group of students as highly motivated as you, Mr. Potter, Mr. Lupin and Miss Granger, but if one of you wouldn't mind moving to Mr. Snape's work station, perhaps the intellectual odds wouldn't be quite so one-sided?"

There was an uncomfortable shifting amidst the other students at this and Lily had the good grace to blush under Professor Slughorn's obvious favouritism. Severus, too, seemed to colour, but Hermione knew it was more from anger than embarrassment.

James, never one to miss an opportunity, smirked smugly. "Don't have any friends of your own so you're poaching some of mine, are you Snivelly?" he sang out cruelly, to which most of the class laughed.

Hermione was suddenly struck by how alone Severus looked, his face dark with anger and resentment. It reminded her that this version of Severus was still somewhat innocent; that he had spent six years being harassed and bullied by the people she considered friends. She felt a surge of compassion for him and without thinking, she picked up her books and walked over to him, sitting wordlessly next to him and actively avoided looking at her friends.

She felt a mild sense of triumph at the abrupt silence her defection caused in the rest of the classroom.

"Now then," Professor Slughorn said, giving Hermione a bemused but grateful smile. "Let's all turn to page…"

"I don't need your pity, Mudblood," Severus hissed under Slughorn's continued lesson.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Believe me, Snape, pity is the absolute last emotion I have for you."

He hesitated, brow furrowing. "Well…good. Because I don't need you and just because you and your entourage are Slughorn's favourites doesn't mean—"

"Snape," she interrupted, revelling in the fact that she could speak to him as an equal. "Let's get one thing straight. I may not like you, but I at least respect your abilities in this classroom. Extend me that same courtesy and let me do my work."

"I don't owe you anything, Granger, and I definitely don't have to respect—"

"Severus," she said. "Shut up."

While some of her compassion had waned in the face of his haughty sneer, Hermione felt oddly calm around him. She didn't like him—not even James's cruelty would help her feelings toward him on that score—but she wasn't afraid of him. This version of him had yet to commit the atrocities of his adulthood. That fact made being in his presence infinitely easier.

She knew she couldn't change the future outright. But perhaps she could make Severus Snape's seventh year just a little less unbearable. Perhaps it would influence him into being only slightly less of the embittered, murderous adult she knew.

Hope sprang eternal, after all.

* * *

><p>"What the hell was that about, Hermione?" James all but demanded the minute they exited the Potions classroom. "Whose side are you on?"<p>

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "I was unaware there were sides, James," she replied calmly.

"Of course there are sides!" he cried. "Gryffindors don't associate with those low-down, cowardly—"

"I'm not here to participate in some childish grudge match, James," she said firmly. "And my loyalty to Gryffindor is exactly what drove me to sit with Severus. I don't tolerate bullies."

James bristled. "I'm _not_ a bully. You don't know him like I do."

"Perhaps not," she sniffed. "But your issues with Severus are not my issues, and my affection and friendship for you does not extend to disliking the people you dislike. If that's a problem for you, then you are not the man I thought you were."

He looked at her for a long moment and Hermione briefly considered that her mini-tirade was about to lose her the only friends she had made. Then he sighed, "This may be one of those things we will have to agree to disagree on, 'Mione. I respect that you don't want to pick sides. I just don't want to see you hurt."

She smiled slightly. "I appreciate that, James. And if it ever came down to it, I suspect that yours would be the side I chose."

He smiled. "Good to know, Granger."

Remus exhaled. "I'm glad you two are not going to fight about this. I don't want to have to chose sides _within_ my group of friends."

Lily nodded. "I agree. And for the sake of peace, let's not tell Sirius about this. You won't know this, 'Mione, but if you think James is bad when it comes to Severus…well…" She trailed off significantly.

James sighed. "Come on. Pads and Wormtail should be meeting us soon. Let's pretend nothing of interest happened in Potions. Shouldn't be too hard."

As if on cue, they heard a jovial, "Oi! You lot! Slow down!" followed by the tell-tale thumb of heavy boots against the flagstone.

"Speak of the devil," Remus said as they all paused, waiting for the raven-haired aristocrat who was bounding loudly down the hallway.

Hermione smiled slightly. Sirius seemed to be in possession of a truly astounding collection of motorcycle boots and he savoured the looks of disapproval he received from students and staff alike. She felt a tug of nostalgia at the memory of the Sirius from her timeline. Some things did not, in fact, change at all.

As if reading Hermione's mind, Lily said, "I'm devastated that Professor McGonagall hasn't read you the riot act for the racket you _insist_ on making, Sirius." Her words were dripping with long-suffering disapproval. "I mean, _must_ you continue to wear those ridiculously…those ridiculously…" But she faltered, eyebrows drawn as she tried to think of the right words.

Sirius grinned, and Hermione got the impression that this was not the first time Lily had voiced her discontent at his choice of shoe. He gestured grandly to his boots, saying, "These ridiculously _exquisite_ examples of fine leather craftsmanship?"

James scoffed. "Or maybe, those ridiculously _sad_ reminders of a diminished maturity level?" he offered, earning him a small smile from his girlfriend and a scowl from Sirius.

"Or these ridiculously _brilliant_ illustrations of my _extraordinarily_ good taste?" the pureblood threw back.

"Those ridiculously _hideous clodhoppers!_" Lily finally bit out, crossing her arms over her chest and giving a level look to the stricken animagus.

"Evans! How _could_ you!" He pouted for emphasis. "I'm wounded."

She was unmoved. "Imagine my chagrin, Sirius," she replied dryly.

Sirius turned his mischievous gaze to an amused Hermione. "How about you, Brown Eyes? Do _you_ have any cruel aspersions to cast upon me and my much-maligned footwear?"

Hermione couldn't help the smile that crept to her lips, so she simply chuckled and said, "I can state with a fair amount of certainty that those boots will suit you twenty years from now, Sirius." She paused, allowing him a moment to gloat silently before adding, "Of course, to me, those boots just scream 'mid-life-crisis-Peter-Pan-complex-rebel-without-a -cause' so if that's the look you're going for twenty years from now…" She trailed off with a grin and an unapologetic shrug.

There was a second of stunned silence before James, Lily and Remus all burst into laughter, their amusement heightened by the look on Sirius's face. Hermione maintained a look of playful innocence and before long, Sirius started chuckling as well. With a smile, he shook his head and draped an arm around her shoulders.

"And that's one of the many reasons why I love you, Brown Eyes," he said, his grin easy and charming. "You won't hesitate to knock me down a peg or two. And may I say," he added, drawing her closer as his grin grew. "If you ever feel that my behaviour deserves a good spanking, feel free to administer—"

"Sirius!" Lily cried, inserting herself between them and linking her arm possessively with Hermione's as James and Remus looked on, amused. "If you're going to be vulgar, then I shall be forced to whisk poor 'Mione away to study in the _library_." She said the last word significantly.

Sirius looked horrified. "The library? Steady on, Evans, no need for cruel and unusual. It's all in good fun."

"Mmm," Lily hummed non-committedly, though she shot Hermione a discreet wink. "No, I'm sorry, Sirius. I simply cannot concentrate while you're stomping around in those ugly boots, tossing around innuendos and flouting our delicate sensibilities." James snorted loudly at that, coughing to cover it when Lily pursed her lips at him. Then she turned to Hermione and said, "You know what, 'Mione? I think we _should_ adjourn to the library. And stay there until supper." Then she tossed her auburn hair over her shoulder and looked expectantly at James. "Will you be joining us, Potter?"

Hermione immediately recognized the look on James's face, and found herself torn between amusement and nostalgia. It was the exact same look of torn loyalty Harry often had when she and Ron found themselves at cross purposes and he was put in the middle. Once again, she felt her heart tug. Her time in 1976 had been the longest she had gone without seeing or speaking to her two best friends since she had met them, and she missed them terribly. James and Lily abated some of the home-sickness, but sometimes—like that moment, with James looking adorably torn and Lily stubbornly determined—they were more of a cause than a cure.

James sighed, running a hand through his dishevelled locks. "I don't know, Lils. I mean…" He trailed off and motioned to Sirius, who in turn made an impressive show of looking wholly pathetic.

Lily sniffed dramatically, though Hermione could see a hint of a smile. "Fine then. We'll take Remus with us. We prefer him anyway, don't we, 'Mione?"

Hermione fidgeted uncomfortably as the focus shifted to her and she could feel a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck. She bit her lower lip nervously and chanced a glance at Remus. His gaze was glued to her mouth, a look of uncensored desire in his eyes that caused her to let out a quiet gasp. He must have heard her because he caught himself and wrenched his eyes away, his own blush creeping up his neck.

Heart quickening, Hermione licked her lip and said, "Well…if Remus _wants_ to join us, I'd be happy to have him." She swallowed hard as Lily arched a knowing eyebrow and so she added a quick, "Er…happy to have him _study_ with us."

Her eyes met Remus's and she very nearly melted at the genuine joy in his smile. Then she noticed James watching the two of them and she stifled a flinch when she saw the realization dawn. She waited for him to say something crass but he merely smiled to himself before throwing an arm around the shoulders of the still-clueless Sirius, saying, "C'mon, Pads. Let's leave the swots to their overachieving and go find Wormtail. I'm sure he's tail deep in some kind of trouble and I'd hate for you to miss it."

Sirius frowned, as if he knew that he was missing something. Not quite ready to throw in the towel, he sent Remus an accusatory look and asked, "Since when do you _like_ to study?"

Remus flushed again but Lily saved him. "No one _likes_ to study, Sirius," she said roundly. "But not all of us can get along with good looks and charm alone."

Sirius immediately grinned. "Why Evans, I hadn't realized you'd noticed my finer points, what with your star Seeker here swanning around all muscley and sporty."

"So kind of _you_ to notice, Pads," James replied with a teasing lilt, batting his eyelashes with practiced dexterity. In that moment, Hermione definitely appreciated why James Potter and Sirius Black were considered the two most attractive wizards in their year. They both had casual flirtation down to an art.

"We'll leave you lovebirds to it, then," Lily sang before starting once more down the corridor. As Hermione's arm was still linked with Lily's, the bushy-haired brunette had no choice but to follow. She did, however, manage to catch the wide, knowing grin James tossed a blushingly-defiant Remus before the young werewolf trailed wordlessly behind them.

"They _are_ aware that all they need to do is put one foot in front of the other and just follow us, aren't they?" Hermione asked Lily.

The redhead grinned. "Ah…but they can't, really," she replied. "Madame Pince banned Sirius from the library a year ago and out of solidarity, James refuses to go in."

"Not that Madame Pince minds, though," Remus added, having caught up to them. "She's not our biggest fan. The only reason Pete and I aren't banned is because we weren't there when Sirius set off the dungbombs."

Hermione glanced back at him, eyes wide. "Dungbombs? As in, plural?"

He nodded, a shadow of a grin on his face. "I _did_ tell him a dozen was overkill, but Sirius rarely listens to anyone. I guess he just didn't realize how close to the edge of her patience Madame Pince was after the bespelled apple incident."

"_Bespelled app—_how many pranks have you all pulled on that poor woman?!" she asked, suddenly understanding the distrust constantly present in the school's dour librarian.

"Oh, those pranks weren't meant for Madame Pince," Lily said darkly, eyes growing cooler as she sent a fierce, accusatory glare at Remus. The werewolf's jaw tensed but he did not look away.

Hermione frowned. "Who were you pranking if not—" But she stopped abruptly, realizing that there was only one person she knew of who could be the object of the Marauders' endless malice. She sighed, "Severus."

"How were we supposed to know that she was going to exit the ladies at the _precise_ moment we set off the dungbombs under Snape's chair?" Remus asked.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't particularly like him, but I don't really understand why the four of you keep picking on him. I know he's not the most pleasant person, but that's not a good enough reason to be mean _all the time_."

"Well…he kind of asks for it," Remus mumbled.

Lily stopped dead in her tracks and spun around angrily to face Remus. Hermione stumbled a little, her arm still hooked with Lily's but the redhead didn't seem to notice as she snarled, "_Nobody_ deserves what Severus went through with the four of you, Remus John Lupin."

Remus paled, eyes darting worriedly to Hermione before sending Lily a pleading look. Hermione tried to school her expression to one of mild bemusement but her stomach clenched uncomfortably. Harry had told her about Severus's experience with Remus in the Shrieking Shack during the full moon during their school days, but she had been mollified by the knowledge that Remus—_her_ Remus—had been truly repentant of his actions.

_This_ Remus—this younger, unfinished, unapologetic Remus—made her suddenly more wary of his callousness.

After a moment of tense, awkward silence, Hermione cleared her throat, "So," she said, deciding to change the subject to far safer territory. "Do either of you know what you're going to write about for Professor Brandywine's charmed artefacts essay?"

Remus seemed infinitely grateful for the shift in subject and turned his soulful grey eyes to her with a soft smile. In spite of seeing such a familiar face in front of her, in that moment Hermione couldn't help but pine for the version she left behind. As fond as she was of Remus as a younger man, there was something…incomplete about him. Like he wasn't quite enough of what she wanted.

He, however, would never know that and so she schooled her face to that of fond interest as he spoke, "I was thinking I'd write about Ferdinand Magellan's astrolabe," he said, moving around to Hermione's free side as they started walking again. "I like the idea of time-travelling artefacts, even though the astrolabe technically only takes you back twenty-four hours."

"I've always thought that a particularly useless artefact," Lily sniffed, the bite still in her voice.

"Well, good. Then I won't have to worry about _you_ writing about it," Remus replied, his voice also carrying a wave a bitterness.

"Of course I wasn't going to write about it. How much damage can you really do or undo in twenty-four hours?"

Hermione kept her comments to herself, knowing exactly how much could be done or undone in twenty-four hours. She could list several twenty-four hour periods she wished to relive.

Lily and Remus, of course, knew nothing of this and both still carried a hint of resentment from their previous stand-off. It was apparent in the annoyed tone Remus carried when he asked an exasperated, "Well, what are _you_ going to write about then?"

"I don't know," Lily replied. "I don't know whether I want to do something contemporary, like Man Ray's camera, or something ancient like—"

"The lost Olympian hourglass," Hermione suddenly said, this time causing Lily to stumble as she halted in the middle of the thinning hallway.

Lily frowned at her. "The hourglass is just a myth, 'Mione," she said. "You wouldn't be able to prove use or history, or even describe its effects on modern spell-casting. Plus, the literature on it is nearly non-existent and…"

As Lily continued to rattle off facts, Hermione's brain whirled. It made so much sense. The history behind the hourglass was long and fraught with pain. Legend said that Hades, in a bid to cause trouble on Mount Olympus, had forged the hourglass from the tears of an unrequited lover. He gave it to Aphrodite, telling her that it would allow her to transport through space and time to be with her beloved. It was, however, a ruse, as the hourglass transported each lover to a different time and space, never to see their intended ever again. It was why there was talk that the hourglass was cursed, not charmed.

But Hermione knew that, even if it was a curse instead of a charm, there had to be a way to break it.

"Excuse me," she said, interrupting Lily mid-fact. "I have to go."

"Go? Why? Where?" Lily asked, frowning as the brunette extricated herself from them.

"I need to see Dumble—the headmaster," she replied. "I'll catch up to you later."

"But…Hermione…"

Remus tried to get her attention but the young witch was already hurrying down the hallway with a single-mindedness she hadn't had since that first moment when she realized she was stuck in the past. She felt more solid than she had in days.

A piece of the puzzle had clicked into place and she clung to it, refusing to acknowledge just how many more pieces she might need before she could go home.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you for reading!<em>

_More updates coming soon._


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Why yes, that is an update you're seeing in your inbox. I'm aware how rare it is now. Try to contain your excitement. **

**Same stuff applies as before: this is unbeta'd, don't be an arse about it, yada yada yada.**

**Enjoy! **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine: Springing Forward – Competing Timelines<strong>

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well, we've been standing on the porch for ten minutes and you have yet to approach the door. So I'm wondering if perhaps time travel has stripped you of the understanding of the concept."

"I'm…I'm thinking about it."

'Thinking,' Remus realized, was a rather elegant expression of understatement with regards to the symphony of conflicting emotions playing through him. Learned man though he was and the uniqueness of the situation notwithstanding, Remus found he just couldn't put into a coherent sentence all that needed to be said between him and Hermione.

Thus, his hesitation.

Angelina crossed her arms in a manner Remus had quickly learned signalled her impatience and asked, "May I inquire as to how long this introspection is going to take?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Are you in a hurry?"

"I just think it might behove us to speed this along so we can avoid a confrontation with her husband."

"They've only just left, Angelina."

"It's been plenty of time for Ron to put away two packets of crisps and half a pint of lager, Lupin, now knock on the door already!"

Not for the first time, Remus was both in admiration of and slightly frustrated by the woman at his side. Since the night in the garden, he had spent a lot of time with Angelina. They didn't have much in common, but she was removed enough from his own history that she didn't inspire feelings of nostalgia—something he felt on a near-hourly basis with Harry. Angelina, perhaps instinctively, knew this and had gone out of her way to befriend him. He appreciated it more than he could possibly express.

As he grew to know her, Remus also came to appreciate the fact that George had chosen in a wife a woman to be reckoned with. She was the perfect combination of Molly, Ginny, and Fred, and while just one of those personalities was a force in their own right, combined together he was almost certain the woman could take over the world if she had a mind to. Angelina Weasley was smart, strong, playful, nurturing, nagging, and above everything—and most obnoxiously, he was learning—she was almost always right.

"Remus," she said gently, illustrating her perceptiveness by reading his trepidation. "After all this time, you have to know she'll be delighted to see you."

He tried to ignore the anticipatory little flip his insides made, simply replying, "It's not that."

When she gave him the doubtful look his response deserved, he added, "Alright, it's not _just_ that."

"This is new territory for us all, Lupin. I'll admit there's something a just bit eerie about speaking to the dead, but that doesn't mean we're not all thrilled and just a little fascinated by it. I mean, if I didn't think it was a massive breach in personal space, I would've pinched you long ago just to make sure you were real."

He smiled slightly at that, and then sighed. "I don't know, Ang. I'm…I'm just afraid of what I need to ask her. It's…it'll be admitting something out loud that I haven't admitted before, and I don't even know if I should…" He trailed off as he stared at the door, every passing second chipping away at his resolve. "Maybe we should do this some other time. I don't think—OUCH!"

He glared at her, and then looked down at the small red mark blooming on his arm. She glared right back at him, remorselessly indifferent to the fact that she had just pinched him.

He glowered accusingly. "Breach of personal space, you said?"

She rolled her eyes. "Screw personal space, Remus. We don't have time for propriety." And when, in spite of the painful reminder, he remained motionless and indecisive, Angelina let out a deep huff of resignation, levelled a very poignant, very matter-of-fact look at him, and knocked on the door.

Then she nimbly skipped back a few paces to leave him desperately waiting for what would happen next.

For a long, languishing moment, there was silence. The milliseconds seemed to tick by endlessly and Remus wondered if perhaps they had miscalculated—that maybe she wasn't home. Then he heard the sound of the latch and his heart stopped. He watched, breathless, as the door slowly opened and a pair of curious blue eyes peered around.

Remus was struck by the sudden gleeful familiarity he saw as the child—for it was a child who answered—swung the door open with a wide, toothy smile.

"Wicked, Teddy! I didn't know you could make yourself look so _old!_"

"Hugo Artemis Weasley!" Hermione's shocked voice said before the woman herself came into view. "That isn't Teddy and he isn't _old!_"

In the glowing autumn dusk, it occurred to Remus that, despite how worn she looked, Hermione Granger-Weasley was still a beautiful woman. Perhaps not possessing the classic beauty of Angelina or Ginny, but she radiated a quality that transcended conventional attractiveness.

Her hair was back, the wild halo of curls barely tamed by straining elastic, and it brought out the angles in her face. She had lost the last of the childish 'softness' her younger version possessed, and while he'd never have called her gaunt, there was a definition in her cheekbones and chin that made him wonder when she'd last eaten a good meal.

The severity in her features was tempered, however, by the familiar warmth of her honeyed eyes as she looked at her son with a mixture of exasperation and barely-restrained amusement.

"But _Mu-um_," the young boy was whining, elongating the word as only children could. "He's as old as _you!_"

His mother arched an imperious brow. "Oh? And how old is that, exactly?"

Unlike his father, Hugo Weasley seemed to have the perceptive wherewithal to know he hand stumbled into dangerous territory. Without missing a beat, Hugo gave a large, ingenuous, butter-wouldn't-melt grin and said, "Twenty-five?"

Hermione pursed her lips, though the smile that threatened earlier was starting to show. "And don't you forget it, young man."

Remus chuckled softly. "Smart lad."

"He's his mother's son," Angelina replied quietly.

Hermione pretended not to hear, still addressing Hugo. "Now, why don't you say 'hello' to your Aunt Angelina and introduce yourself properly to your Uncle Remus? He's Teddy's father and not a day over twenty-five either."

For a fleeting second, Remus caught a glimpse of the strong, intelligent, fierce young woman he knew. It was clear that, with her children at least, Hermione was in some ways still the clever, confidant hellion of her youth. As her eyes met his, however, the façade was gone; shuttered behind haunted, resigned eyes and an unreadable expression.

In that moment, he knew that the circumstances this woman had lived through had snuffed out the glittering spark he found so magnetic. It was gone—she, _his_ Hermione—was gone. In his entire life, he had never missed anything so much as that spark.

An impatient tug at his shirt brought his attention back to the boy that now stood in front of him, eyes sweeping over him with uninhibited curiosity. As Remus stooped down to his eye line, Hugo asked, "Are you a zombie?"

Remus grinned. "That all depends. Do you have any brains worth eating?"

The boy gave a delighted laugh and launched himself into Remus's arms. Glancing up at Hermione again, they shared a moment of bittersweet melancholy; both considering the possibilities of what could have been. That, more than any fond nostalgia he carried for Harry, tugged at Remus's heart.

It also reminded him of why they were there.

Angelina, too, seemed to be reminded of their quest, because she leaned over conspiratorially to Hugo and said, "D'you know what? Uncle George has some new tricks he's trying out. I managed to knick a few of 'em from his workshop when he wasn't looking. What say you and I go into the garden and try 'em out, eh?"

The young redhead's eyes lit up, and suddenly the novelty of having a zombie werewolf in his house came a distant second to the thrill of adventure that stemmed from untested, contraband Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products. Before giving his mother a chance to protest, Hugo had all but hauled Angelina into the house, asking a multitude of questions that once again reminded Remus of the version of his mother the boy had likely never met.

Hermione watched them go, looking decidedly ill at ease.

"I do hope they don't leave scorch marks on the grass again. His father was very cross with him the last time. His roses had a rather unfortunate tinge to them for weeks." Then she sighed, turning to Remus with a brave smile. "Ah well. No harm done, I suppose. I can always say that I did it trying to get the aphids off." She started inside and he followed without invitation, only just overhearing her mumbled, "At least I think that's what I said last time. That whole night's a bit of a blur."

"What night?" he asked, trailing her to the kitchen.

"Pardon? Oh. Nothing."

He frowned, taking a step toward her. "'Mione, are you alr—"

He stopped dead when she flinched.

Pure, uncensored rage consumed him and his voice took on a low, dark tone as he asked, "What does he do to you?"

She looked startled, then gave an uneasy laugh. "What? Really, Remus, what a thing to ask."

"That doesn't answer the question."

She looked at him a moment, then squared her shoulders. "He doesn't do anything to me that I can't handle, thank you very much." Then she spun on her heel and marched to the stove, adding, "Tea?"

He ignored the deflection. "Does he hit you?" he asked. She gave a loud laugh but even twenty years hadn't added any sincerity to it so he pushed, "Does he, 'Mione?"

"You and I both know that Ronald does precisely what he wants to do, but we also know that I can be quite a formidable opponent."

He almost believed her.

Almost.

"That still doesn't answer the original question, Hermione."

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Doesn't it? Why on earth would I allow him to hit me?"

"Why indeed," he mused softly.

He knew she had heard him. He knew because he saw the tension that formed in her shoulders and noticed how her hand wavered for the briefest of seconds over the kettle. Then, with an almost imperceptible shudder, she settled herself and turned back to him with that guarded, unreadable expression of hers. "Why are you here, Remus?"

He frowned at her cool, detached tone. "I'm sorry?"

"Why are you here?" she repeated. "It can't be about the hourglass. I already told you that night at the Burrow that I didn't know much about it."

"It's not about the hourglass," he admitted. "Though, I'm not sure I believe that you don't know any more than what you said that night."

She crossed her arms. "And what makes you think so?"

He shrugged, mirroring her stance and crossing his own arms before casually leaning against the sink. "You didn't seem particularly surprised to find us at your doorstep."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "And your mind automatically assumed that I was withholding information from you on the off-chance you'd realize and swing by for a chat?"

"I didn't think…why are you trying to pick a fight about this?"

"I'm not picking a fight."

"Then what are we doing now?"

"We're talking, Remus."

He sighed, running a hand over his face. "Fine. You don't know anything more about the hourglass. How did you know to expect us, then?"

"Perhaps I was under the misguided hope that you were curious about my life and wanted to meet my children."

He tilted his head slightly, assessing her. "Don't do that, please."

"Don't do what?"

"Please don't try and push me away before I've even had a chance to have a real conversation with you. You know me, Hermione. Of _course_ I wanted to meet Hugo. Meeting Rose while I was at Hogwarts was a delight. But…and forgive my candour, but…first and foremost, I wanted to see you."

She looked at him for a long moment—long enough for him to see the iciness start to fade back to a resigned sadness—before turning back to the stove. "Quarterly reports."

He frowned. "I…beg your pardon?"

"The quarterly report. George only invites Ron out for drinks to discuss the quarterly report for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Ron's an investor. Likes to be included in the company financial reports. That's how I knew you were coming."

"I don't follow."

"Well…it's November."

"So?"

"The quarterly report won't be out until January. After the holidays."

"And?"

She turned back to face him. "Nothing short of an immensely compelling reason would drive George into socializing with his brother when he can't hide behind the cover of business." She smiled sadly. "You…are an immensely compelling reason."

Remus chuckled. "Well…I suppose I've been called worst things."

Her expression shuttered immediately. "It wasn't meant as an insult, I assure—"

"Christ, 'Mione, it was a joke. I know you remember what it's like to have a sense of humour, right? Jesus."

Her shoulders hunched and she looked at the floor, mumbling, "I'm sorry."

"Stop it!" he roared, the rage once again consuming him as he stalked over to her, grabbing her shoulders before he could stop himself. "Stop apologizing!"

He wanted to shake her; to knock the victim out of her and bring back his lioness. But he couldn't. He wasn't a violent man by nature, in spite of his less-savoury other self. And while she may respond to violence with her coward of a husband, he didn't want to be just another man in her life that failed to protect her.

Especially when it was becoming evident that the person he needed to protect her from the most was herself.

Loosening his grip, he let his hands run over her shoulders, pausing on her upper arms. He felt her tension; noted the twitch in the muscle beneath and catching the barest of glimpses at the strength she refused to show. He sighed again and said, "I'm sorry. This wasn't how I wanted this meeting to go." He released her and took a step backwards. "I really…I just had a few questions, is all."

He met her eyes once more and found her watching him, her gaze calm and curious. It renewed his hope; perhaps the brightest witch of her day was still in there somewhere.

"How can I help?" she asked.

He gave a deep breath. "Do you remember the night Albus…Professor Dumbledore…died?"

She nodded, "Of course."

"Do you remember we were all in the Infirmary…Bill had been attacked and…and Fleur said it didn't matter and…and then Tonks—Dora—said…well, she said…"

"She said it didn't matter to her," Hermione prompted softly. "Your reasons why you couldn't be together. That none of it mattered to her."

"Yes," he rasped, swallowing the emotions that were still so raw about that night. "Do you remember…do you remember what _you_ did, after that?"

She stared at him for a moment then gave a nearly imperceptible flinch as she said, "I just stood there."

Remus felt his heart plummet. "You…you just stood there?"

"Yes, I…" She trailed off before giving him a funny look. "Why?"

Remus was suddenly unsure of what he was asking, so he stalled, "Why what?"

She gave him a very Hermione-esque look. "Why do you ask, Remus?"

He swallowed hard. "I don't…I don't know. I just…was curious."

"No, it's more than that," she pressed. "That was the night of your accident, wasn't it? That was the night you time travelled from."

"Well…yes, but—"

"What did I do in _your_ timeline?" she asked.

"Look, Hermione, that night…clearly a lot of things happened that weren't meant to happen and I—"

"I ran, didn't I?"

He blinked. "How did you know?"

"Did you follow me? Is it my fault that you're stuck here? God, Remus, why did you follow me?"

"How did you know you ran, Hermione?"

"That's not important," she snapped, her voice taking on a slightly hysterical tone. "The important thing is now we know that this whole thing is my fault. I did it."

"No one's saying that, 'Mione, so please just tell me how you—"

"So stupid! I was so stupid to think…it was just some childish little—"

"Hermione!" Remus shouted, grasping her arms once more. "How did you know you ran?"

"Because I wanted to run!" she answered desperately, tears in her eyes. "Every fibre of my being that night told me to go—to escape that oppressive room before I heard…"

She stopped suddenly, clamping a hand over her mouth to physically prevent herself from saying the next words. But he wouldn't let her. He was so close to a piece of truth that he could taste it. So he pulled her hand away, eyes boring into her, and asked, "Before you heard what?"

Those honeyed eyes. He knew that he would do anything for her with one look from their warm golden pools. They pleaded with him and she breathed, "Don't make me say it, Remus."

"Please, 'Mione," he begged, his voice equally as soft now.

She let out a shuddered breath. "I knew I had to leave before you admitted that you loved her."

He let out the breath he was holding, not realizing the tension that had been coursing through his body. He let his forehead drop to hers, nose touching nose. "Then why did you stay?"

She closed her eyes, a tear tracing its way down her cheek, her breath warm on his upper lip. "I stayed…I stayed because I…I clung to the hope that you _wouldn't_ say it."

"And did I?"

"No."

He knew he should have felt relieved, even though more questions were brewing at the back of his mind. He knew he should have been grateful; grateful that she had opened up and let him know for sure that she'd cared for him. He wanted to fold her in his arms and hold her; to tell her just how much he cared for her as well and that he would take care of her.

But he couldn't. Because she pulled away.

Their eyes met again and there was a pain in hers that he hadn't seen before. It was a resigned pain—the consequence of living with an ache so deep for so long that it was a part of her now. He knew the pain well, but wouldn't have wished it on his worst enemy, let alone the woman he was almost certain he loved.

She took another step back, crawling further into herself, until she was back to the haunted, hurting woman he had encountered that night at the Burrow.

"I saw the announcement in the paper later that summer," she said blandly, turning to the stove and the now-whistling tea kettle. "Nymphadora Andromeda Tonks and Remus John Lupin married in small ceremony." She sighed. "Perhaps I should have run."

"I would have followed you, you know," he said. "That's what I did in my timeline, and I don't think I would have acted any differently in this one. I don't know what happened in this timeline that convinced me to marry her, but…but I wasn't…I _couldn't_ have been in love with her that night."

"It hardly matters now, Remus," she said. "What's done is done. It's in the past."

"Not for me," he growled. "Don't you see? In my time, you _did_ run, and I ran after you because I lov—"

"Don't," she said firmly, spinning around once more to face him. "We can't change the past. What you remember…it's not even the real past. It's…it's a separate timeline altogether, thanks to that damned glowing hourglass."

"It's the lost Olympian Hourglass, Hermione," he said quietly. "You must know what that means."

She scoffed. "You must really be desperate for answers if you're listening to Luna's cracked up theories."

"You're so quick to dismiss it, but what if it is, huh? True love, caught in the folds of time. It's activated by two hearts, 'Mione, not just one. Which means that—"

"Which means nothing, Remus. So what if a seventeen year old version of me is floating around in some third competing timeline? How do you know I'll draw the same conclusion?"

"Because I know you."

"You know a _version_ of me, Remus."

"No, Hermione. I know _you_. Even if you don't remember that woman, I know parts of her are still there."

"It's a fantasy, Remus. A dream. It's not reality. God, if my dreams were ever to become reality…" She trailed off and shook her head with a slight smile. "Well, let's just say there'd be some very odd things in the world. Death Eaters and dancing baked goods and failed essays…Merlin, I've even dreamed of your glowing hour…"

For a second time, she stopped speaking, only this time she seemed stunned into silence.

He watched her for a moment before prompting her with a delicate, "Hermione?"

"Yes? Oh. Sorry, Remus, I just…I had the strangest…" She trailed off again.

"You said you've dreamt of the hourglass?" She nodded. "_Just_ the hourglass?"

He wasn't sure, but for a moment he thought he saw her blush.

"I…er…it wasn't _just_ the hourglass." He arched an eyebrow and colour flooded to her cheeks. "It…they were dreams about you."

He couldn't help the triumphant smirk that crossed his lips. "About me?"

"Don't smile like that!" she snapped, though her blush was still painted prettily across her nose and cheeks. "Yes, alright. I occasionally dream about…you. And the hourglass. You're falling through it, you see? I don't know why it's so important. It's just a silly dream, dreamt by a silly girl of seven…teen."

Her hesitance told him she had thought of something else.

"What are you thinking, 'Mione?" he asked.

She looked up at him, licking her lips nervously. "Let's pretend, for a moment, that this is the lost Olympian Hourglass. It requires a defining moment. A moment of…vulnerability…I guess. And it looks for that moment, throughout time. So…suppose it has the power to…separate time. Create different timelines so there are more chances for those moments to exist?"

"Alright," he agreed. "So?"

"So…perhaps it tries to influence decisions made in each other those timelines. Perhaps I was destined to run away and for you to follow, but because I didn't, the hourglass sent you here, to me, to…to…I don't know. To find that moment?"

"To find a moment of vulnerability between us?"

She gave a huff of frustration. "I don't know. I don't know enough about the myth…sorry…the _history_. And I wouldn't even _begin_ to know where to look…"

"I happen to have a collection of books that Luna brought over," Remus said mildly. "Perhaps we could research together?"

Her eyes brightened and just a hint of her toothy grin showed through. "I'd like that."

"Me too," he replied.

They were very still for a long moment. He wanted to go to her. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and take her away right then and there, if only to keep the hope in her eyes and the smile on her face. But as he languished over the morality of such an act, the screen door to the kitchen slammed open and Angelina ran in.

"We have to go," she said urgently. "George just sent a patronus. Ron'll be here any minute."

Remus hesitated. "But…"

"We can't be here when he gets back, Lupin. Do you understand? Not just for our sakes."

"I won't just leave—"

"There's a portkey upstairs," Hermione interrupted, herding them toward a door in the corner. "Up the back stairs, in the spare bedroom on the right. It's an old silver rattle of Rose's. I left it on the dresser. It leaves in two minutes for Diagon Alley."

Angelina gave a grateful smile. "Thanks, 'Mione."

"Don't mention it. Now go!"

She threw open the door and Angelina started up two at a time. Remus turned one last time to Hermione. "I can't let you face him—"

She stopped him with a kiss. Deep and fierce and passionate, it stole his breath away and eliminated every thought from his mind. She tasted of honeysuckle and something else he couldn't quite place. He wanted to pull her to him; to cling to her and drag her away with him so he could prove to her that she was not the scared little creature she had become in his absence.

But she didn't give him the chance. Breathless, she pulled away and shoved him up the stairs, slamming the door in his face.

Stunned, he turned to see Angelina smirking at him.

"Bet you're glad I knocked on the door now, eh?" she teased. Then she grabbed his arm and pulled him up the stairs. They skidded into the spare room just as the front door opened.

"We can't just leave her with him," Remus said, hesitating as Angelina offered him half of the rattle.

"She knows how to handle him, Casanova. Plus, I have a sneaking suspicion you'll be seeing her very soon." The portkey started to glow and she grabbed his hand, forcing him to take part of the rattle. "Besides," she added as the toy started to shake. "'Absence makes the heart grow fonder,' as they say."

"I hope they're right," Remus mumbled before letting the magic of the portkey jerk them toward Diagon Alley.

* * *

><p>Hope you liked it.<p>

More to come...eventually. ;-)


End file.
